Uplifted: Last Days
by DarkDanny
Summary: Definitive Edition: These are the last days. The last days of the Third Reich, the last days of the Western Front and the last days of Humanity being alone in the universe. The world is about to change; but will it be for the better?
1. The Existential Crisis of Joachim Hoch

**Chapter One: The Growing Existential Crisis of Joachim Hoch**

…

 _ **"A TOAST TO OUR LEADER; THE MAN WHO WON US THIS BATTLE: STANDARTENFÜHRER JOACHIM HOCH!"**_

The sudden roar from outside his window woke the newly promoted Standartenführer Joachim Hoch from his eighteenth hour of nightmare plagued and meth withdrawal sleep.

Groaning as the stiffness in his joints returned to him, Joachim Hoch pulled himself up from his bed, yawning as he stretched out in place, he could feel all of his joints cracks. Marching two thousand captured men had been a tedious job, as had moving the captured American equipment he decided to bring back for inspecting in Germany. Finding a place to hold the prisoners were even more so for him and his men. Without a pen to hold them at, Hoch had to place them at the docks under shifts.

The search for accommodations for the prisoners was hampered by the gathering of German officers who greeted the returning Kampfgruppe. Of them, Generaloberst Heinz Guderian, who stood there, bright eyed and clasping his hand, telling him how proud both he and Rommel were of his total victory. Next to him was Sepp Dietrich. As commander of the 1st SS Panzergrenadier Division _'Leibstandarte'_ stationed in Egypt, It was him who saw to his field promotion. The men cheered, Joachim smiled and shook Sepp's hand graciously.

He felt nothing for it.

It was not the last honour. He had been recommended and approved of the Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross with Oak Leaves and Swords. He was to receive it from Rommel when he arrived in a matter of days. It was an honour the Fuhrer usually bestowed, but with his focus on the east, it was left to the Generalfeldmarschall in command of the front. He grinned to Guderian, and then to his men, who cheered even louder at learning of the honour bestowed on not just him but for them as well.

He felt nothing for that either.

He also received communication from people across Europe and off as far as Mars. Congratulations from Admiral Zorah and Jarva, praise from his old Commander, Wilhelm Bittrich, Praise from Himmler for representing the strength of the Aryans in this first battle against the mongrels (The cable was immediately set on fire by Hoch when he finished reading it) and finally letters from all of the Langer's, From the hero adoration coming from the youngest members to Gerald and Lene, both of them relatively drunk in celebration of the achievement. He smiled brightly, spoke happy words about the Langer's, he wrote back to them jubilantly.

Still, he felt nothing.

There had been no word from Hanala.

That, on the other hand, hurt.

Sitting there on his bed, alone and in the dark, ignoring the partying coming from his men; Joachim Hoch broke down into tears. This was a first in many, many years.

This was the goals he had sought since he was eighteen? To lead men into combat, kill the enemy? It was one thing to be a soldier. It was quite another to be a leader.

He had killed nine thousand men, possibly more factoring in the wounded he allowed to be sent back to Oran. He was not a clog in the machinations of another man's mind. They were his machinations! How could he permit such madness to occur!

How could this have happened? This battle he had pursued as revenge for Hanala. It had hit him what he had done. Nine thousand men dead, God knows how many lives he altered for the wounded. Command in this sort of scale… it made him sick when he thought about it.

His hands shaking as he wiped his eyes clean, Hoch pressed his hands against his head. If people could see him now at this very moment, as weak willed as his Mother and Father had been in life. What an embarrassment. He promised himself when he left home that never would he allow anything to put himself in this sort of pathetic state.

 _"TO OUR FALLEN KAMERADEN,"_ he heard Hertzer roar out from outside. " _TWO HUNDRED AND EIGHTY EIGHT OF YOU WILL NOT COME HOME WITH US, BUT TAKE HEART KNOWING WE INFLICTED NINE THOUSAND DEAD ON THEIR SIDE! THOSE ASSHOLES NEVER KNEW WHAT HIT THEM!"_

Exhaling as he heard the crowd roar back to life, Joachim pulled himself up from out of his bed and wandered over to get dressed once more. Rolling down the sleeves and pulling back on the gloves that hid his mechanical appendage. He pulled on his Heer tunic and headed down stairs, his hands fumbling for a cigarette. He would make an appearance for his men. Put on his brave face and join the festivals outside. With any luck it would take his mind off everything, from the death to the lack of news regarding Hanala.

Hitting the last stairs, he paused to light up a cigarette. That was when he heard it.

A moan…

…and then a grunt…

…and then the faint sound of two people giggling as though they were doing some sort of illicit activities.

Rolling his eyes as he exhaled through his nose, Hoch gave a loud, abrupt coughed violently, causing the moaning to stop and the frame of a naked man launch from off the couch. In a fraction of a second, a man was standing there, naked and standing in a state of attention for the Standartenführer. Hoch groaned and averted his eyes from Christian Bohr who stood there unashamed by his own nudity.

"S-shit sir, I…" he begun to sputter.

Bohr was joined by his partner. It was the Ukrainian skeleton, Tatiyana. She had enough sense to cover whatever she had with her hands. Pulling on his peaked cap, Joachim turned back to the two of them at long last. Her thin lips allowed a slight nervous laugh to come from her, earning Joachim to narrow his eyes at her for a brief moment before turning back to Bohr. At least he wasn't having sex with either Oster or Hammer.

Or both of them; such deviance would not surprise him in the slightest.

"Save the excuse, Bohr. I see your festival wasn't enough," Hoch grumbled at them, rearranging his belt holster. He looked at the two of them once again before adding. "You're under orders to impregnate her. I don't want her on my front any longer."

The two of them shared a look.

"Ah… yes, Herr Hoch... I-I am sure we can arrange something…" was all Tatiyana could say.

Deciding he did not need to have this conversation any further, Hoch turned and left, leaving the two of them to continue their dalliances. It was something that apparently wasn't bothered by the interruption from the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

Taking another drag of his cigarette as he exited the improvised barracks, the soldiers, all of whom were deep in celebration, all turned in his direction. Their celebration ceased in under a second as someone screamed _'ATTENTION'_ in the presence of their commanding officer. Hoch turned his eyes to look at all of the men trying to stand at attention. Most of them were simply too plastered to remain still for very long.

Without words, he stepped over to join them. One of the men, an Obersoldat, no more than twenty was carrying a bottle of brandy. Hoch reached out and grabbed it from his hands. Pausing for moment to smirk at the Obersoldat whose serious expression formed into a grin; he took a long careful drink before handing it back to the soldier. Action was not lost on the men. The gathering of the Kampfgruppe broke out into a wild eruption of cheers for him.

Joachim allowed them a slight smile before turning away to wander to a parked Hanomag, which was occupied by Hertzer and his crew. The Panzer Commander was grinning at him, gesturing him over, a cigarette in his mouth as he waved a bottle of American Whiskey at him. Before he knew it, an arm belonging to Helmut Mann caught him off guard. The heavily intoxicated Hauptmann grinned at his Commander.

"Hoch, you lunatic… You f-fucking crazy man..." he slurred to the staring Standartenführer, "I-I should have known you'd be this awe-inspiring when we were kids… Good God. Those Ami's... Americans never knew what hit them!"

Hoch gave Mann a look of warning,

"Mann… You're sloshed…" Hoch muttered in a form of a warning, his tone stern as he climbed into the back of the Hanomag.

Staggering in place, the Hauptmann gave a short, nervous giggle.

"Oh right…"

Mann came to attention and flung his right arm high in the air.

"SEIG HEIL, MEIN STANDARTENFÜHRER! SEIG HEIL! SEIG HEIL! SEIG HEIL!" Mann started screaming at the top of his lungs, gesturing wildly to Joachim. "SEIG HEIL TO MY FRIEND HERE, THE POSTER FUCKING BOY FOR THE GLORIOUS, INDOMITABLE NATIONAL SOCIALIST PARTY; THANK OUR GOD ABOVE US FOR THE PARTY!

The surrounding men stared at the event. Both curious and in some case looking for insults offered by the drunk man. Sarcasm in the Reich was heavily frowned upon. Before Joachim could respond in any way point out just how low he felt for his old cause, he was spared a debate as Johann Oster reached his Hauptmann and dragged him away from Joachim, leaving Hoch alone with Hertzer and his crew. Sighing, Hoch took a seat across from Hertzer, who pressed a tin cup into his hand.

"I find it hard to believe you are friends with such an idiot," Hertzer muttered as he poured the Standartenführer a generous helping of American whiskey. "His old Army is falling apart now. They're talking about surrender now. I cannot believe they failed this terribly out east."

Hoch dropped his cigarette and stamped it out as he took a careful sip of the strong drink. Having to hear lie after lie from those bastard propagandists back in Berlin about the situation in Stalingrad must have been painful to listen to.

"He has his uses. If I had my way I would send all these Sixth Army survivors off to a leisure furlough for unwinding. They're good soldiers, but one misstep and they've lost it," Hoch said as the Panzer commander poured him a drink. "Good work out there, Hertzer, the rest of you. I'm putting you all up for promotion… Your command of the heavy panzer detachment was spectacular."

Ignoring the sudden shouts of jubilation from the Sigrid II crew, instead, the shouting in both German and English forced his attention away from the good humour coming from Hertzer and onto his men. He watched as the men parted, allowing a dozen armed sentries to push through. With them were six men, their uniforms tattered and unkempt. Leading them was Joachim Peiper; his hand was wrapped around the back of a seventh American's jacket.

The party mood subsided as they realized the enemy was amongst them.

Sipping his tin cup of whiskey, Hoch frowned as the soldier was brought ever closer. Unlike the other, he had been battered all ways to hell. His nose was broken; his face was smashed by what were likely pistol whips. Hoch adverted his eyes as he downed the last of his drink and forced himself not to think about how this was probably done to the boy in his name.

"Peiper?" Hoch called out as he handed the cup back to Hertzer for another refill.

With one hard shove, Peiper shoved the American soldier hard against the back of the Hanomag. With a dull thump, he bounced off the vehicle and fell to the ground in front of Hoch and the Americans behind him, who were forced down onto their knees as well. The soldier moaned, his gripping the bruising covering his left cheek.

Snorting in apparent disgust, Peiper looked up to Hoch once again.

"Standartenführer, we were preparing the prisoner transfer, as you requested. We were performing routine final check for contraband carried by the Americans," Peiper informed Hoch. Gesturing to the injured soldier, he added. "This one resisted, so the guard held him down while an inspection was performed. We discovered this."

Letting go of the bleeding soldier, Peiper stepped forward, his hands digging into his pocket for a moment and produced an Iron Cross First Class, the ribbon bloodied and frayed. Peiper placed it into Hoch's waiting hands and backed off; allowing the Standartenführer time to inspect the badge of honour carefully, like it was as delicate as glass.

Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he could feel his personal rage and outrage for what Peiper had uncovered begun to simmer to a slow boil. To Hoch; there was a special place in hell for men who looted medals off the dead, especially off of his dead.

Hoch looked up, his eyes locked onto the wounded prisoner like bird of prey staring down a creature lower down the food chain.

"As you requested, the men have complied with your anti-summary execution orders," Peiper pressed on, forcing his attention back to the heaving American. "They have insisted we bring him before you for your judgement instead. A few of the Afrika Korps members felt since you know English; you could gauge the situation the best… and for the record, his condition was due to his uncooperative behaviour."

The men holding the Americans chuckled lowly at Peiper's statement.

"We brought his squad as well, at Major Brenner's request, to act as witnesses," Added one of the junior officers, apparently wanting the praise of the Major and the Standartenführer, or he wanted the point across to Hoch that he didn't want to be executed like Major Gantz.

Looking to Major Brenner, the veteran of the Afrika Korps, Joachim nodded to him gratefully as he pocketed the cross and pulled a mostly clean rag from off the Hanomag's munitions supply. Both Brenner and he appeared to be on the same wavelength with regards to prisoner handling.

Quietly, he poured himself another cup of whiskey. Instead of gulping it down, he brought it with him as he climbed out of the back of the halftrack and joined Peiper who went back to holding the American down in place, his pistol pressed against his neck.

"Let him go," the newly promoted Standartenführer ordered Peiper.

Although the promotion and the official acknowledgement that Hoch was the superior officer seemed to increase Peiper's respect for the younger soldier; He still hesitated for a good long moment. Finally, Peiper obliged, tucking his Walter away. His expression became one of disgust as he kicked the kid hard in the back. Hoch shot him a look of warning before turn back to the soldier, sobbing from the pain of the savage beating the guards probably dealt him.

Ignoring the feeling of guilt that this violence to a POW had occurred, stealing from the dead or not, Joachim stepped to the baby faced soldier, quivering.

"What is your name?" Joachim switched to English, kneeling before the boy, his hand reaching out to push his head back so the frightened soldier could look him in the eyes.

The soldier did not reply. He simply continued to moan, blood was draining heavily from his facial lacerations. Hoch exhaled and choose instead to not pursue the answer just yet. Silently, he wiped the injuries the young American sustained clean pausing to hold the rag tightly over a large gash against his head. The blood in the soldier's nose bubbled as he sniffed and took over clutching the rag. Behind him he could feel the eyes of his men on him. Where had the lunatic who shot his own man and drove his men so hard that they annihilated a premiere armour division?

In truth, Joachim wondered the same. The rage that had been flowing through him simply could not surface. Not when he held this much control. Not when his men were looking for him to be some sort of moral standard. Perhaps the mess lying before him was too pitiful to make an example out of.

"Jim…. Jimmy… James" he sputtered out, his eyes darting from Hoch, to Peiper, whose hand was resting on his holster.

"Jimmy…or is it James?" Joachim repeated as he dabbed the rag into his whiskey and tended to the blood coming from the soldier's ear, making the young man jump in place. "What about your surname?"

"Harris… James Harris, Private First Class, S-Serial Numbe-."

Joachim chuckled slightly; he shook his head back and forth only twice.

"I'm not looking for your secrets, Private Harris. Considering what I done to your division, I imagine a man of your rank would not have many secrets left to spill," Hoch spoke to the Private reassuringly. "Do you know why you and your squad have been dragged before me? Why my men treated you like this?"

The soldier turned his eyes away from the Standartenführer. He swallowed painfully as he looked up to Hoch once more. Hoch turned away briefly, standing up and pulling the bottle of Jack Daniels from Hertzer hands.

"I had… I had an Iron Cross…" Harris managed to get out. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, sir."

As the strange sounding American started to sob, Joachim could not help but grin at him. Had the Americans been recruiting straight from the mental asylums? It would not surprise him one bit if that were indeed the case. Hoch's eyes flickered to the rest of his squad. All but one of them was staring ahead defiantly. The last one was staring right back at him, clearly the leader of this group.

Sighing, Hoch returned to the boy. Kneeling back in front of him, he took a drink of whiskey before offering it to the soldier. Harris shook his head, his head bowed as he drooled out a mouthful of blood.

"That is a very good answer, James Harris," Joachim found himself repeating his praise as though he was addressing a child. "I'm always relieved when I find someone who is willing to own up to a mistake. So many men weasel out of personal responsibility..."

Offering him one more chance for a drink and getting a no one again. Joachim sighed and stood up, handing the bottle back to Hertzer and tugging his P38 Walther from out of his holster. The moment made the squad behind Harris roar out in protests. Harris on the other hand went sheet white at the sight of the giant now holding a pistol at his side. Surrounding the Americans, Joachim barely registered the looks his men were giving each other. They were witnessing their executioner Commandant looking down on his victim.

"Private Harris, you must understand this. To many men of my Kampfgruppe, as well as the rest of the German army, getting caught possessing an Iron Cross from a dead man is subject to a possible summary execution," he attempted to explain the now sobbing Private. "There is no trial, no appeal. I take you somewhere quiet, give you a cigarette if I am generous and then shoot you in the back of the skull… Right about here."

Joachim tapped the pistol barrel right where he was referencing. He could feel the vibrations of the Private shoot up through his sidearm.

"Oh Lord, please don't shoot m-" He started to sob.

"Shut up... Consider yourself lucky I have issued standing orders against unreported executions," Joachim stated as he pulled back from the soldier. "That means I make the final call on the matter."

Finishing his inspection he paused back in front of the frightened man's line of sight. Once more he bent down onto his knees. He retrieved the Iron Cross from his pant pocket and displayed it to the Private.

"Franz Simmering, 1940..." spoke Hoch, reading the Iron Cross inscription before pocketing it once more. He looked up, adding. "To you, he was just another Nazi, a Kraut, a man dehumanized by your propaganda machine. To you, an Iron Cross is simply a war souvenir meant to be traded and exchanged, or handed to your mongrel children to ruin. In actuality, this medal personifies a man's personal bravery. To steal a medal such as this, you steal his dignity. This would ring true for your case should I steal your medals. You can take a dead man's wallet, you can take his rations… weapons, his gear… you can take his watch, but a medal..?"

Hoch shook his head and stood up. He turned his focus away from the American and focused onto the gathering of his men. The smiles on their faces vanished the moment they noticed their Commandant scowling at each and every one of them.

"This extends to you all as well," he warned his soldiers back in his native tongue. His voice significantly harder compared to the tone used for Harris. "From what I understand, you have all heard about Major Gantz and his actions, as well as my response to his actions. I will not deny I shot the major dead for killing a civilian. For your sakes, if you have taken medals off the fallen or captured Americans, I ask you return them to men you stole them from, or to the officers. If you do not, I will make sure you come to regret it."

He was immediately answered with _'YES STANDARTENFÜHRER!'_ shouted by every man gathered around the display, their words both frightened and respectful. Nodding as they acknowledge his new directive, Hoch turned back to the American.

"I'm sorry… I'm _so_ sorry..." the boy finally stammered out since he was informed of an impending death sentence. "My Daddy said I should bring home an Iron Cross for him. If I knew that ya'all were so strict 'bout the medals…"

Hoch blinked, his mouth curled up as he absorbed the excuse. What was it with parents who told their war bound children to do stupid things?

" _Your Daddy_?" Joachim repeated incredulously. "Father's whom have clearly never served in his life have no right to dictate the way the son should conduct his war. You're the one risking your life. Not him."

Listening to Harris mumble incoherently, Hoch stood up once more from his place next to the younger soldier, his pistol raised as his body moved himself behind the Private, pressing the barrel where he said he would place it.

 _"Come on, He's just a goddamn kid!"_

Hoch rounded his field of view back to face the source of the angry English shot at him. It belonged to whom Hoch had assumed to be the leader of the squad. He was a roughed faced man; his face was cut up pretty badly, but they were old wounds from the battle. Silently, he lowered his sidearm and stepped over to the man who was interested in keeping one of his own alive.

"Who are you?" Hoch ordered, gesturing at him with his pistol.

"His squad leader, Sergeant Dale Blaine" The Sergeant said, struggling to stand up. "He's young and stupid. My Father served in the first war. He got in shit when he tried to steal from a dead German by his CO. I should have issued a warning to my boys, to him. Don't punish the boy for this. Please sir. If I were in your shoes, I would be just as cross, but he doesn't need to die over this!"

Hoch's mouth twitched. Although he had never served in the war at a rank lower than Obersturmführer, it was still a low enough rank to sympathize with the position the American must have been in. It was the personal responsibility to your underlings. He would say anything; do anything to make sure one of your own didn't have to die...

"I appreciate your understanding," Hoch said to the Sergeant, before turning to Harris, adding, "How old are you?"

"Nineteen…" was his immediate response, shooting out the words at record speed. He must have heard the sympathy in the Standartenführer's voice.

Joachim sighed.

"Nineteen is old enough to know better."

With that, Hoch walked back over to the teenaged soldier, redrawing his pistol. Pulling back the pistol slide, Hoch pressed the Walther hard against the head of the suddenly screaming Private and pulled the trigger as the Americans behind him screamed in a state of rage.

 _ ***CLICK*… *CLICK CLICK***_

The boy went dead still. He looked as though he wasn't certain if he was a alive or dead. Slowly, he turned back to look up to Hoch, who was chuckling as he tucked his empty Walther away into holster. Around him the Kampfgruppe murmured, some turning away as they realized their Standartenführer wasn't going to go through with the execution.

"You should have taken that drink, James…" Joachim idly spoke.

The Private broke down into wailing tears. He reached out, clutching the German's legs as though Joachim had been some sort of a saint for sparing him. Hoch took him off and turned Peiper, who nodded and went around to issuing orders to the sentries to collect the POW`S and return them back to the docks.

"Consider this your lucky day, Harris," Hoch said as he watched Peiper drag the boy away. "I'm giving you your life. It's more than most will ever receive these days."

Watching boy sputter out his tears and sobs as Peiper dragged them away; Hoch turned away and climbed back into the Hanomag. He needed another drink and a cigarette. He had already taken so many lives for a cause that would be destroyed soon. He was not willing to take another.

…

 **Xxx**

…

 **Changes: cleaning a little, cut out some drunken angst, called back on Jimmy being a dumb hick.**

 **Welcome to the last days.**


	2. Strange New Paths

**Chapter Two: Strange New Paths - January 22nd, 1943**

 **…**

"I'm here representing the business owners of our fine town. This curfew you're initiating is going to be bad for the economy. Our city is on the verge of economic collapse from this war. Destroying the evenings for recreation will be the final knife."

Inwardly, Obersturmbannführer Joachim Peiper moaned as he looked at his watch and had noticed that deliberations between him, his Commandant, and the Vichy government in the city of Bougie had been discussing Joachim Hoch's new position as the Interim Commandant of Bougie.

"My Commandant has no interest in your economy," Peiper warned the man, staring Frenchman. "Trudge through the lack of night business; work twice as hard at day time. Come tonight, the curfew will be set in place and in accordance to the Vichy-German agreements; your police force shall be enforcing the rules set by the Commandant here."

Peiper did not mind the role he had initially. Hoch did not speak French fluently, whereas he did; but he had at least expected his Commandant to be in charge of these talks. Instead he stayed quiet and allowed the French to blabber on about the various issues his new rules were causing, all the while not saying a single goddamn helpful word. He just sat there, smoking his cigarettes and stared out of the magistrate's window.

The head of the local police looked to the Standartenführer curiously. He seemed to want to receive some sort of acknowledgement from the SS commandant to the City. It was an acknowledgement that Hoch did not give. He continued to stare off, smoking his cigarette with an expression that gave the appearance that the man had lost everything.

Peiper narrowed his eyes at him. Joachim Hoch was a cocky bastard as Peiper had recalled. It had not been this war that had changed him. It was getting grabbed by the Gestapo goons that did it. Hoch would still fight, hell, he had destroyed a full division, but he was clearly disillusioned, and men disillusioned were a dangerous breed. They harboured sympathy for the enemies, both foreign and domestic.

"Commandant Hoch, is there something you would like to add to this?" Peiper called out in an attempt to get the much taller Standartenführer's attention.

Hoch did not even pretend to look vaguely interested in his new capacity as the de facto leader of an entire city. He simply shrugged his shoulders. The Frenchmen gathered were not blind to this. They looked at Hoch with a measure of disrespect. That was their biggest mistake. As mopey has he had been, he was still in possession of a very dangerous temper.

"It doesn't matter to me," Hoch murmured in German, his eyes focused on his hands. "Everyone dies, if they want to die wandering a street when I specifically tell them otherwise, who am I to stop them?"

Peiper stared at the Standartenführer curiously for a moment before he turned back to translate Hoch's words to the French delegation. Joachim Hoch continued to keep his eyes off the situation, uninterested. Rubbing his neck, Peiper decided to add _'cynical streak'_ to Hoch's newfound state of mind.

"You're in charge of this city. You need to have a say in the matters," Peiper reminded the pessimistic Commandant. "Do you have anything personal to add?"

At long last, Joachim Hoch finally focused his eyes back to reality. He turned from Peiper and focused on the Magistrate of Bougie, who looked suddenly frightened by the sudden attention offered by the new controller of the city. Hoch did not speak; he simply stared as he appeared to debate something.

"Magistrate, do you have a sizable Jewish population?" Hoch inquired. The question caused a momentary silence before the Magistrate stood from his seat, no longer being a good host, he actually looked furious.

"I am not going to be your goddamn pawn in the Jewish affairs of your country," the civilian leader of Bougie hissed. "Mainland Vichy may listen to the German demands, but out here-"

Hoch held up his hand as Peiper translated.

"I have no intentions in following in my predecessors footsteps. Answer the question. You may think you're being clever by withholding things, but I can always make this situation worse for the city," Hoch warned him, stubbing out his cigarette as he narrowed his eyes at him.

Still the Magistrate stared at him. Why hadn't Hoch begun shouting? It generally worked, and quite frankly it impressed Peiper a lot. Quietly instead, the Standartenführer exhaled.

"You have my word I have no ill intentions for your citizenry, regardless of their race," he promised the Frenchman.

The Frenchman stared at the German for a good long moment, searching for any lies in his demeanour. Peiper could see this question was more important to Hoch than he had realized.

"There is a relatively sizable population; just over a thousand," the Magistrate finally allowed himself to admit to his new overseer. "I can have a police officer direct you to them."

Hoch shook his head. He instead turned his attention to Peiper.

"Deal with the rest of the matters," Hoch requested from Peiper. "I'll be back."

With that, the Standartenführer stood from his seat and left the main chambers of the City Hall. Peiper gave them all a look, a silent order not to leave just yet. He too stood up and chased Hoch all the way out of the building. By the time he caught up with Hoch, he was already half down the steps and heading towards his Opel-Kadett staff car, a vehicle that still had large gaping holes left by the American dive bombers.

Peiper reached out and grabbed Hoch's arm, turning the taller man right around. Hoch stared at him.

"Hoch… Standartenführer," Peiper spoke up his voice remaining neutral. "You know the rules on consorting with the Jewish race on a level that is not professionally oriented. I realize that things run differently out here, but as a man in that uniform, as well as the Commandant of this garrison, you of all people must follow regulation."

Hoch batted Peiper's hand off his arm. His eyes narrowed.

"Peiper… just shut up," He growled back.

With that, Joachim Hoch pried open the heavily damaged car door and closed it behind him. Stalling the engine once before it came to life, Joachim Hoch sped off, leaving Peiper wondered what in the hell was wrong with this man.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

"You're going to be fine," Admiral Halid'Zorah assured him as he gestured to the young man to join him on the holo-communication device. "These men will be looking for strength. You must not be afraid to show it."

The man did not say anything, he simply allowed a slight smile to the quarian, who turned back and stepped into the communicator. There he joined the dozen men chatting amongst each other.

 _"What about Model? Will you be able to handle him? He's in bed with Führer."_

 _"That may be, but that does not mean he's a National Socialist. Model is an opportunistic authoritarian militarist. With the powerbase gone, he'll fall in line. Not to mention he hates rear-area matters, so long as his supply lines are left untouched. His focus will remain on the front-"_

As soon as they realized the Admiral had joined them, the conversations ceased.

"Gentlemen, for the first time, I would like to welcome Prince Louis Ferdinand to our gathering," Halid greeted the gathering. "The soon-to-be Crown Prince has requested to sit in so that he may better understand our plans. I feel that he has that right considering he has agreed to take the reins of government once we have cast the National Socialists aside."

The Generals and Generalfeldmarschall's looked to one another, unable to believe what the quarian was suggesting. Gerd von Rundstedt rolled his eyes, his mouth forming a passive sneer as looked away. Halid turned back and gestured to the future Crown Prince to join him. Louis took a careful inhale and joined the Admiral on the communication device.

His presence caused a mixed reaction. Many of the old guard bowed their heads to him, as did a few juniors, notably Claus von Stauffenberg. However, there was an equal amount of men who did not acknowledge them. They were the hardcore militarists, who clearly blamed the Kaiser for both the failure of the last war, and the rise of the National Socialists, which lead to this one.

"Thank you for permitting my presence here. It's an honour to meet you all," the young future Crown Prince spoke to the gathering of officers. "I realize how strictly military you have wished to keep this. I hope that once the National Socialists fall and the Wehrmacht retains control of the country, there will be a place in the Fatherland for just governance instead of brute martial law. For ten years the National Socialists have kept a firm hand over our people, employing terror and control. We must show our people that we are the better choice; that we are the more moral choice of the two. This image must resonate with the West if peace is to be possible."

Zorah watched the reactions carefully. Many of the Heer officers agreed with the future Crown Prince's assessment. They primarily belonged to Von Stauffenberg's sect. The men he had gathered himself were much less enthused by the words of peace suggested by the young Prince. Gerd von Rundstedt actually looked close to having a fit at the mere suggestion of democracy for Germany.

Erich von Manstein was the first to speak. He was a man who usually had his nose buried deep in the war and with good reason. He was the few pillars propping up the eastern front, keeping the campaign from folding up right there and then. His opinion on the monarchy appeared to be more pragmatic then Von Rundstedt's. Less vindictive and more attentive to how the Prince could serve them.

 _"Your Majesty, we sympathize with your protection of the civilians, we may even agree in it to an extent. However you must understand that there will be no lull in the fighting,"_ Von Manstein said plainly, saying words that were reserved for the sour looking Rundstedt. _"We shall fight the Americans, we shall fight the National Socialists if they choose not to end their regime peacefully, and then we shall continue our war against the Soviets. Peace and limited liberty are nice intentions, Your Majesty, but not when it is threatened by the Soviets. Not when this war is one of survival."_

Louis nodded, undeterred. He turned instead to Halid.

"Admiral, why not broker peace with the Soviets?" he inquired. "Surely when your people land they will see some reason when they realize you are aligned with us. This war could come to an end for us. You all will be able to make any concessions you wish to make with the firepower the quarian fleet possesses."

There was a low murmur of discontentment at this thought. They might have been men who had come to resent the National Socialists, but these were men who hated Communists far greater.

"Peace could be offered to the Soviets if they ask," Zorah spoke, ignoring Rundstedt's expression souring even more. "However you must ask what is the likelihood of the Soviet Union willing to end the struggle. Stalin will not see reason. He and his circle have centralized the powerbase under them. If Stalin were to die, then I imagine a peace could be brokered between all of you."

Before Gerd von Rundstedt and even Von Manstein, who might have been pragmatic about the Crown Prince, could shoot down the thought, a new image materialized in between Von Rundstedt and Von Manstein. It was Generalfeldmarschall Erwin Rommel, his uniform unkempt.

 _"My apologies for my tardiness,"_ Rommel spoke to the gathering in a haggard tone, _"I just got on the train north to meet with our young SS hero."_

Next to Halid, Louis Ferdinand's eyes widened. He was surprised not just by the presence of the famed Generalfeldmarschall, but the mention that this conspiracy had members of Hitler's private army amongst their ranks.

"Joachim Hoch is the man Rommel speaks about, Your Majesty, as well as a few others inside the SS organizations. I will fill you in later, _"_ Halid delicately explained.

Rommel swivelled his head and widened his eyes at the young Prince.

Louis inclined his head at the elaboration. Still he appeared somewhat worried about the thought of such men now siding with him. Halid decided it best not to mention that they had Reinhard Heydrich's brother in their organization just yet; especially how unstable the younger brother was. Gerd von Rundstedt's son had been tending to him, but it was hard work. Betraying your family was always a heartbreakingly difficult thing to do... even if your brother was the Hangman of Prague.

"I have heard of his recent victory," he acknowledged, his confidence wavering slightly. "He is against the National Socialists then?"

Von Rundstedt nodded his head.

 _"He joined us, kicking and screaming into reality. Like most children eventually do,"_ Von Rundstedt said as he looked to the future Crown Prince, no longer annoyed by the looks of it. _"He will however have the most important of jobs. He will either be the Führer abductor, or he shall be his assassin."_

The word assassin stirred up a mixture of reactions. Most of them shuddered at the thought. Overthrowing the government was only recently a thought considered taboo; let alone going through with it. Assassination, on the other hand, was a concept still difficult to accept. Halid glanced to the future Crown Prince, who seemed to be thinking.

"I would very much like to meet him," Louis spoke finally. "It would be wise if he simply shot Hitler. To give him a chance to speak could only give him a chance to defend this madness…"

A strange laugh came from Von Rundstedt.

 _"Practicality: Now you're thinking like a Prussian. We'll see to it you meet him. Perhaps a suggestion from you could sway him to that path,"_ Von Rundstedt assured the Prince before turning to Halid to add. _"In the meantime has there been any word from Minister Spee_ r?"

Looking to the Prince, who appeared attentive and ready to learn more, Halid turned back to Gerd to answer his question.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Standing next to his shot up Opel-Kadett, he could not believe he was doing this. Every instinct told him that this was not a good idea.

He ignored the gathering, all of them watching the interim Commandant of Bougie, Joachim Hoch walks to the cities only still operating synagogue. He wasn't sure why they felt it needed to be a special. Perhaps they thought he was here to enforce the Vichy rules regarding the Jews.

Well he wasn't. He wanted nothing better than to ignore this place, but a lone, loud voice buried in the back of his mind told him come here. Come to this place and speak to Jews who hadn't been nearly as controlled as the ones who once lived in Germany, or the east. There had been a strange guilt, developing since he spent those months in the Gestapo hands.

Was what happened to him was what happened to the hundreds of thousands of Jews that were shipped east?

Whatever the case, one thing was for certain it had been keeping him up at night these past few nights. The guilt he felt was capable of being personified. Its form came in that… woman… _Greta_ … that expression she had on her face as he belittled her, as she told him her family had gone missing… That lost expression that was burned into his mind for all these many months.

He hated her so much. He hated her and felt nothing but pity and guilt for that stupid woman doing what she did.

"What is your business here?"

Joachim looked away from the architecture and turned to face the source of the angry words spoken to him in a heavily French accented German. There walking towards him were two men. One of them was quite clearly a Catholic Priest. Wearing his collared outfit, the other an Arab, or North African, or whatever he was. He had a long, flowing beard. His face was aged, though buy son or time Hoch could not be for certain.

"Stay right where you are, Priest, Arab," Joachim called out, one hand clutching his sidearm holster, the other holding it out to gesture them to stop their movement towards him. "Tell me, am I disturbing some sort of interfaith ritual? I would not think you would gather here."

The Catholic looked to his Arab contemporary the way one would a friend. It was peculiar in Hoch's mind. Usually the religious were too busy slitting each other's throats over which version of the same God was the correct form. Seeing them act in unity was a surprise and against everything that Langer had taught him about those who propagated religious banter for a living.

"I am Father Marc Bellard of the Catholic Church," the Catholic introduced himself to the Standartenführer in German; he gestured to the Arab next to him and added. "This is Imam Abdul-Hazeez Mian, representing the Islamic community within Bougie. We are here to make sure that you and your men do not move against these people in a fashion you have done across Europe."

Hoch took a deep breath, his eyes glaring into the defiant Catholic's. Bellard, for his part, did not look phased by the annoyance.

"My men are soldier's first, police for the time being second. Most all of them serve in the Wehrmacht under Rommel's command," Hoch said as he pulled out his gold cigarette case. "I'm not here to cause you or the Jews trouble unless the Hebrew race suddenly starts an uprising. I was hoping to have a conversation with the head Rabbi."

His words were not treated as truthful words. Father Bellard stared at him, judging him in a matter not exactly in line with Christ's teachings. Next to him the Imam took a step forward. Behind his flowing facial hair, he could sense the man was angered by his presence.

Hoch sighed and went for his cigarette. Somehow he knew he was going to be harassed by these men.

"I'm afraid we cannot let you do that. Not without knowing your intentions at the very least," The Imam warned Joachim, who remained unmoved by the tone.

The German remained silent, glaring at both the men through the plume of his cigarette smoke linger in the middle of the three men. To their credit, both of them were remarkably steadfast in their resolve.

"Though we may have disagreements between our faiths, we will not allow an ignorant atheist to walk in here and threaten to harm a fellow man of God..." the Imam paused, noticing Hoch had lit up his lighter. He narrowed his eyes and added. "Would you please refrain from smoking; the Temple has a strict prohibiting on such a disgusting habit."

Arching his eyebrow at the Imam, Hoch pulled the new cigarette from his lips and placed it back into the case.

"If it makes you feel better, I'm a baptized Lutheran," said Joachim as he glanced to the Catholic, who stared at him curiously. "Well, my parents were at least. I do not recall going to church in recent memory."

Joachim watched as the Catholic groaned audibly at the revelation. Next to him the Imam slightly smirked at the clear discomfort of the Christian. Hoch turned away, refusing to grant permission to start a theological debate that was probably brewing in the Father. Besides, he might have been baptized, but certainly wasn't religious.

Being with Hanala did not afford him a chance to explore past religious affiliations. Not when Hanala would scoff and call him a _'Hal'zusa'_ –roughly translated to 'delusional denier of reality'. It was always adorable to watch Hanala turn into an intolerant woman. It reminded him that behind the technology, the quarians were really no more different than him.

"Father, Imam. What is this?"

Joachim turned back and found a man approaching them, clinging onto him appeared to be several of his followers, old women. All of them whispering in their tongues and shooting the offending SS man sharp glares.

He looked like a Jew, but at the same time, it wasn't quite what he had expected. Joachim had been expecting one of those pudgy Orthodox types. The ones that refused to blend in with the fabric of the country they lived in. Instead the man was wispy and wore a suit. The only way Hoch could identify him as a Jew was by his tallit and his kippah. He was neither an old man as well. He could have been no more than thirty… perhaps forty.

The oddest oddity offered by the Jew was the look on his face. It was almost serenity. Or perhaps he just looked human to Hoch. Not a beaten down miserable looking pile of vermin left in the wake of the Nuremberg laws.

Whatever the case, it left Hoch confused. The Jews hated Germans; he was not blind to it. Fact is he understood why they would. Especially in the uniform he was wearing.

Carefully the Rabbi whispered back to the older women, shrugging them off. Quietly he joined the Imam and the Father, smiling and exchanging kind words with one another.

"Are you aware of who I am?" Joachim inquired, catching the Rabbi's attention.

The Rabbi turned to him and slowly, he inclined his head.

"You are the German who now controls the city for the time being," he said, his accent was clearly English as he added. "I'm Rabbi Asher. What brings you here to the Temple?"

Hoch did not reply at first. He stepped by the three Religious men and wandered a few metres into the Temple main hall. His eyes ignored the stares from the congregation that was watching the scene unfold.

"For the first time in my career, I have tens of thousands of lives in my hands," Joachim spoke up as he continued to look around. "The power is fleeting. I will be returning to the Reich before long. In the meantime I have decided to explore the avenues that the Reich has cut off; your tribe being one of them."

Joachim turned back, his eyes met the Rabbi.

"I know that Jews love to talk, talk, talk..." he said in a low carefully controlled tone. "For the first time, I find myself wanting to have a conversation with your kind."

The Rabbi crossed his arms. He didn't seem convinced.

"Have you run out of desire to simply beat the Jew with your billy club?" Asher spoke plainly. Hoch's neutral expression formed a slight smile for the man's daring.

"I wasn't a Sturmabteilung, _Rabbi_ ," Joachim reassured the Jew as he decided to turn back to join the three men. "Unless a Jew was wearing an enemy uniform between 1939 to now, then I have never raised a hand against your kind in my life. I just want to talk. Will you join me?"

"And what makes you think I want to talk to you?"

Hoch remained silent, as he allowed the Rabbi to stew in his own words, his curiosity and the growing discomfort left by his defiance. After a long moment, the Rabbi looked at Joachim with a thin, unamused smile before turning away, the three men spoke in a whisper to each other. Hoch rolled his eyes as he pulled on his peaked cap, and headed to the door.

"We must insist on joining you. Perhaps at a distance, we will not allow this to be a ruse. I have heard stories in Paris…" he heard Bellard whisper furiously.

"Please Marc, you mustn't worry-" the Rabbi started, but was cut off by Hoch as he rested one hand on the door.

"If that makes you feel better about this, I will permit it," Hoch interrupted them. "I need a cup of coffee... come along, Rabbi. You're under my personal protection. There is nothing you need to worry about."

The Rabbi hesitated and nodded, following Hoch out into the streets, behind them the two other religious men, chaperoning this outing.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _"Hello, Miss Jarva,"_ a voice called out to her softly, interrupting her resting state. _"I've weaned you off your painkillers for the sake of comprehension. I think it's time we to begin rehabilitation."_

With a groan, Hanala'Jarva opened her eyes.

Weakly, Hanala tilted her head to one side; her eyes squinted as she focused on the IV drip in her arm. No longer was it a clear pain suppressor drip. Whatever it was, it was working. For the first time in a week, she could actually feel sensations in her body. Most of it a burning from the wounds left by the dive bomber that hit the munitions truck she had been standing by.

She had been so stupid. She should not have stood near a high value target.

Well it was too late for that now. She had only just awakened from a four day long medically induced coma. The dreamless state was preferable to the nightmares that suddenly started plaguing her when she slept on her own accord. Those ancestors damned Dive Bombers…

 _"Doctor…. What's the damage?"_ she slurred. Her hand rested on her stomach, wrapped in all sorts of medical tape. She had probably asked the question before, but in her state she simply must have forgot it. Thankfully, the physician on her case was being most patient with her.

"Half a dozen bullet wounds, however they were slowed down significantly by the casing they were contained in. There were a seventeen serious shrapnel wounds caused by glass and metal. Thirty percent of your lower back has been afflicted by second and third degree burns. All of it is treatable," the physician listed off. "There are, however, several issues I feel I need to discuss with you, outside the obvious trauma. I feel you are in a state in which I can tell you and you can comprehend it."

Dazed that she had somehow managed to survive all of that, Hanala smirked slightly. Wait until Joachim heard about this. He might have lost an arm, but she now had more scars than he. Oh… he would never be able to live through the shame of being beaten by a woman.

Smiling happily at the thought of reuniting with him, Hanala gestured for the Doctor to continue his report.

"First, smoking cigarettes made of ingredients incompatible to your body," the Doctor said as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. "You may think that they are not affecting you, but your lungs are irritated and inflamed. I'm begging you for your sake, stop smoking before you have a serious reaction."

Hanala rubbed the bridge of her nose. Yes, the Doctor was probably right to be concerned about that activity. It was one she took for granted considering her lack of notable allergic reaction to the vice she had. With any luck she could convince Hoch to lay off the cigarettes when she was around.

"Quit smoking, Okay… I can do that," Hanala said, smiling weakly at the stern looking doctor. She stared back for a long moment before glancing at her charts. Her hard expression died down.

"My second concern isn't something you can quit," the doctor pressed on, her voice growing much softer. "I have run full body scans on you searching for any further tertiary damage to your body by your traumatic injuries. We noticed an anomaly within your reproductive organs."

 _Reproductive organs_? Hanala tilted her head.

" _Anomaly_?" Hanala repeated, staring at the physician oddly. "I have my cycle on schedule. I'm most certainly not pregnant."

Hanala ignored the urge to hit the woman's hand off her knee as she looked sympathetically down towards her patient.

"Yes, your ovaries are working just fine and no you are not pregnant," The doctor informed her. "The problem is your uterus. It has been heavily poisoned with element zero exposure."

Hanala blinked, Element Zero…poisoned? How in the Ancestors did that happen? When could it have happened?

"Element Zero?" She repeated, using her elbows to prop herself up from the bed. "I haven't been exposed to any recently. When my ship crashed I was well away from the engine room and in an environmental suit."

"That appears the most likely culprit has been your prenatal exposure," the doctor explained before she could stew any more hypotheses through her racing mind. "However, let me stress that your eggs are fine, egg production is at a healthy cycle. It's just your womb that is extremely unsuitable for egg fertilization, let alone carrying a child to full term. You've gotten lucky that the material hasn't grown cancerous."

Fertile, but infertile, lucky not to be afflicted with cancerous tumours... Hanala, could not take this any longer, with great agony she pulled herself up so that she was sitting, ignoring the protests of the physician. It but the pain was preferable to the nauseous feeling brought on by the pain suppressors in her.

"So…" she mumbled. "I'm burnt, shot, shredded up, my lungs are lucky to work and now I cannot carry children. Thank you for the good news Doctor."

Hanala trailed off, her hand falling once more against her stomach as she stared off.

"Hanala… I cannot imagine how this is-"

"Just shut up," Hanala growled.

The physician looked as though Hanala had slapped her.

"Miss Jarva?"

The anger did not make sense to Hanala, but it was there, flowing and spilling out at this news. Why was she angry? It wasn't as though she wanted children. Not in the slightest. She was twenty four years old and not interested in such things. Besides, it wasn't like she could have children with Joachim. Not that they were that far into the relationship to even think about such a thing.

 _Were they?_ Hoch seemed like the sort who would have children in a matter of years….

"Anyways, my third concern is the mental trauma associated with the injuries you have done through," the Physcian pressed on for the suddenly brooding woman. "Your nightmares are getting worse and I cannot give you sleeping aids forever. I would like to schedule you to meet the resident psychologist to evaluate you, as per your Father's request. You are now an Admiral. You need to have a sound mind for the task."

Hanala blinked as she ignored the talk about the potential signs of PTSD. She was an Admiral? That meant one thing. The fleet was in lockdown, the quarian people were being told about what the intentions were for the humans. She had to be there, especially if she was an Admiral now. She had the most experience with the humans… well… perhaps second to Admiral Zorah.

"Hanala… Admiral Jarva, We have to make sure you're stable…" the doctor protested. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to have my last cigarette," Hanala grumbled as she limped to the door, pulling on Joachim Hoch's bloodied jacket before turning back to add. "I'm going to send a message to friends on Earth, and then I'm going to find out what my Father needs me to do as an Admiral. I will be back in the hour."

With that, Hanala limped off. Trying not to think about how terribly altered everything had become in such a short amount of time.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

"You've been sitting there, staring at me like I am a curiosity. Have you not spoken to Jew before?"

Sitting there at a café no more than a block and a half from the Synagogue he found Asher at, Hoch sipped his coffee. No, he could honestly say that the Jew was right. He had never spoken to a Jew willingly or knowingly before.

"I'm not sure where to start," he muttered as he set his cup. All the Rabbi could do was laugh, shaking his head as though he pitied the younger man.

"Are you trying to have a religious awakening?" Asher inquired, his smile coming off as a smirk to Joachim. "Considering Martin Luther's anti-Semitism and your own life choices, I'm afraid you're going to be a rather difficult convert."

The jab at a faith he did not follow faithfully surprisingly stung him. Joachim sneered at the man.

"Let me get this straight," Joachim spoke, trying to keep a growl from entering his tone. "I don't like you. When this conversation is over, I will likely continue not to like you. Had you said that to me four months ago, I would have probably would have punched you in the throat for that. Things have changed; situations become greyer and greyer for me."

"I am perfectly fine with that; the feeling of distrust will be mutual, _friend_ ," the Rabbi returned, lapping his fingers together. "The Torah has little compassion for the enemy; I have to go to your Yeshua… your Christ, to find any respect for you. You have questions? I have questions… how about an exchange?"

Hoch stared at the bartering Jew for a good long moment. He could not believe that he was submitting to this. That he was even willing to do this. Had it not been for his pride, Joachim would have had probably stood up and simply left the Rabbi there and then.

Instead, he simply nodded in concurrence with the Jew's deal. Behind his coffee cup, the Jew smiled.

"How do you live with yourself?" Asher inquired, setting down his coffee cup and staring into the German's eyes. "Are your parents proud of your path? Do they condone what you have done to mainland Europe's Jews?"

Hoch crossed his arms.

 _Of course_.

"I told you, I have never laid a finger on your people," Hoch reminded the Rabbi.

"Maybe so, but the organization you are a member of? They have destroyed Judaism from Europe; perhaps for good," Asher said, his voice still quizzical. "Does that make you feel proud? Six hundred years of history, helping to build your nations, only to be wiped out in a matter of months… years?"

Joachim could only shrug.

"The Waffen-SS is a military organization. I haven't been affiliated with the civilian SS since 1936," Hoch protested. "I believed that Germany is for Germans. There are few genuine German Jews left."

"So the Jew has been a non-citizen for centuries? Even after they fought and died for your country?" Asher countered easily. "I was in the last war in its final year. I know a great many Jews that fought and died for the Kaiser."

The two men stared at one another.

"Perhaps the SS you belong to is built for fighting, but it is still a military organization whom at this very moment is probably working on orders from Berlin. From the SS you claim not to be a part of," Asher said, shrugging his shoulders. "What does your family think of the hatred you simmer in? What do they think about this irrational hatred of my people, of my faith?"

Joachim clenched his teeth together. The Rabbi simply continued to hold those searching eyes over him. He made no display of emotion. There was no anger or judging, he was simply watching the Standartenführer tear himself up. Hoch wrenched his eyes away and took a careful sip from his hot drink.

"My Mother disowned me, Rabbi," Joachim spoke quietly. "My Father died when I was young, my siblings died in the last war. I had nothing to my name. I chose this path because it was the only path I had left. This path gave me a family that loves me; at least I think they do…"

 _The Langer family_ … he knew where Gerald stood on him. This betrayal was going to destroy everything he built with his surrogate family, and even if it didn't it would changes things forever. He would revert back to simply being an acquaintance to them. The old days, completely forgotten when his betrayal became apparent.

The Rabbi's hand touched the top of Hoch's. He looked at Joachim oddly.

"I can honestly say that I was not expecting honesty from you," he admitted to the German.

Joachim chuckled humourlessly as he pulled his had away from Asher's. Quietly, he wiped it on his trousers, out of sight from the English Jew.

"I'm too tired to keep up a façade for much longer," Joachim murmured as he brought his hand back up to grip his cup of coffee. "This war has stopped being a source of pride. I simply have nothing anymore."

Hoch slid his chair backwards, retrieving his cigarette case. Pulling one out, he paused and glanced to the Rabbi. Wordlessly, he offered his case to the man. Asher shook his head.

"I saw a most peculiar sight back in October," Joachim spoke as he lit his cigarette. "I was in Krakow when I stumbled across fourteen thousand Jews being rounded up into cattle carts and sent east… fourteen thousand men, women and children."

Noticing the Rabbi go sheet white, Hoch paused for a moment to hale his drag from the cigarette. The smoke exited his nose slowly.

"The strange thing is, these fourteen thousand were being rounded up by … oh… perhaps a hundred men with machine guns."

The Rabbi simply stared at Hoch. Hoch turned away, focusing on a passing by Panther tank rolling through the street.

"Tell me Rabbi, what is it about Jewish nature that would permit this to happen?" Hoch continued on, still not looking at Asher. "Fourteen thousand men and women could have overpowered the guards and fled. They could have fought for their own survival. They might have died, but they would have died standing up. How is it that your people can be so clever, and yet lack basic survival skills, lack basic common sense?"

Joachim trailed off.

"Lack a basic morality…" Hoch murmured.

The Rabbi looked like he was sick

 _"Basic morality?"_ he repeated.

Hoch did not reply to the question. For every one German he saw that day with a gun, there were two, perhaps three with a special uniform, a Star of David patch and a baton. A Jewish police force used to control their fellow Jews. How could they do this? How could they agree to acting against their fellow kind?

 _"Herr Hoch? What do you mean by basic morality? "_

Hoch snapped his head back and focused on Asher. The man's hands were shaking. Slowly, the Standartenführer shook his head and took an unsteady drag of his cigarette.

"Why don't they unite? Why don't they fight back?" he repeated once again. "They go like sheep to the slaughter. Why not fight and run? They would be hunted down, yes, but better to die standing…"

"Herr Hoch… What do you mean by lack of morality?" once again, Asher inquired. Yet again Joachim paid the question no attention.

"You know…" Hoch smoke to himself. "I spent almost three months in the hands of the Gestapo. All because of _her_ …"

The statement caught the Rabbi's attention.

" _Her_?" Asher repeated. Hoch nodded, his lips curling as he thought about her.

" _Her_ ," He repeated. "A Jewess that was to marry my brother; my Mother was protecting her. She has children… a husband… they vanished; she accused me of doing it. I didn't… I didn't…"

"No… but the ideology you follow did," the Rabbi said, his voice rising for the first time. "The ideology you love, that gave you so much."

Hoch's face contorted into a look of rage. One that made the Rabbi flinch terribly, like Hoch was about to reach over the table and hit him.

"I don't follow this ideology anymore, Rabbi. I don't love it. I _hate_ it," Hoch hissed at him, his eyes wide and wild. "I _hate_ what I've aligned myself with. I watched fourteen thousands of your people rounded up like cattle, the action itself committed by men I serve with! I thought I was serving for a higher purpose. I was serving to destroy Bolshevism and the Western corruption. Not to be a part of some sort of ex…"

Hoch trailed off. His mouth was open but he had no words he could speak. The Rabbi stared at him; he was in a state of shock from the confession made by the Standartenführer. Breathing quickly, Hoch downed his coffee and lowered his head, his hand pushing through his hair.

"Extermination program…" he voiced. For the first time since October, he was admitting what he knew was happening. Biting his lip, he looked up to the ashen faced Jew and said. "It's not deportation… it's an extermination… God help me, I know it is."

The Rabbi pulled off his Kippah. His eyes were filled with tears as he comprehended what Hoch had been saying.

" _Extermination_..." Asher spoke, his voice small like a child. Joachim stubbed out his cigarette. Slowly, he nodded.

"I don't get it…" Joachim started to ramble. "All these years… all the blood I shed for them… the enemy as well as my own… deport the Jew; make him a non-citizen for all I care. But exterminate? How could this happen… _Himmler_ … I can see him and Heydrich wanting this… But the Führer is not a madman… surely he would stop it if he only knew... The Führer is a good man…"

"Your Führer set the groundwork, Herr Hoch," Asher called out, breaking Hoch off from his self-directed rant. "This Himmler is the one building on his dream. Hitler may not know, but what reason would he have to stop it."

Hoch did not reply. He leaned back into his seat, staring into the empty cup. Drying his eyes, the Rabbi stood from his seat and placed a Franc on the table.

"Perhaps you are more complicated than I thought you would be," the Rabbi concluded. His hand falling on to Hoch's once again. I would very much like a chance to speak with you again, Herr Standartenführer."

Joachim nodded blankly, not watching as the Rabbi went to the Imam and the Father, leaving Hoch by himself.

This time, however, he did not wipe his hand.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: Clean up, altered the Hanala scene a little. Hate that I brought up the sterile bit, feels unnecessary, but it's important to later stories.**


	3. Formulation

**Chapter Three: Formulation - January 24th, 1943**

 **…**

"I see you tried to escape again."

"Can you blame me? This place is incredibly dull. I'm surprised half my countrymen haven't started hanging themselves."

Once more Otto Skorzeny simply could not help but chuckle at the much shorter man, his arms and legs dragging heavy chains, along with them. They were walking in circles in a containment pen the Commandant had set up just for him. There above them stood two guard towers with twenty odd men and two MG-34's pointing down at them. On the other side of the fence, a dozen sentries walked with the men, their rifles drawn and directed at the Englishman.

When asked, the Commandant assured him that all these chains were only for whenever Lieutenant-Colonel Jack Churchill wanted to stretch his legs.

'Mad Jack' as he was affectionately known by to his peers had been in isolation now for the past two months. The Commandant determined that he was a very bad influence on the normally obedient British Prisoners of Wars here in Stalag XVII-A, situated just south of Wolfsberg, Austria. He would rile them up, start fights amongst his own men to lure the guards out and then beat the ever-loving hell out of them. He would hatch all sorts of attempts at prisoner escapes. He even stabbed Oberstleutnant von Reckow in the thigh with a fork.

No that would be understating what he did. He stabbed Camp Commandant Oberstleutnant von Reckow in the Femoral Artery. When asked why he did it, he simply said that it was _a 'Science experiment. To see if Jerries' bled out quicker than Anglos_.'

 _Science experiment? A goddamn fork?_ What in the hell was wrong with this man!?

It seemed like every month Skorzeny had to come down to Wolfsberg and straighten things out with the latest Camp Commandant. It meant Skorzeny had to learn better English in order to pacify the Englishman. It usually worked for a little while when he reminded the Commando just what high ranked National Socialists thought of enemy commandos. The threat of execution usually worked… for just about week...

So instead of dealing with this and knowing full well that Skorzeny and his more powerful friends would probably have him killed if he transferred him off to where Commandos went to die, Oberstleutnant Von Reckow had built a small section of the camp just for Churchill to stay. It was a worthwhile investment. With the rebel Englishman out of the way, the more malleable English went back into a state of respectful apathy.

Taking a gulp from his bottle Marillenschnaps, he handed the bottle to the English man, who quickly accepted it.

"Is there somewhere you would rather be then?" Skorzeny inquired as he went for his cigarettes. "Have you grown bored of my company?"

Handing the bottle back to Skorzeny, a sour look on his face caused by the apricot schnapps, Jack Churchill could only shake his head. He offered the taller Austrian a wryly smirk.

"No… but with this war, I wish I could be back out there, fighting your pals," the Englishman sort of sighed longingly as he thought about the conflict waging without him. Chuckling slightly, he added. "You know, before I got called to fight you, I was looking into volunteering to help the Partisan fighters in Yugoslavia. Have a little fun out east. Partisan activity in France is child's play compared to over there. Say what you will about Tito, that son of a bitch is one crafty devil, eh?"

The two men laughed as the drinks were passed to one another. Skorzeny offered Churchill a cigarette, who accepted it.

"That doesn't bother you?" Churchill said as he inhaled his smoke. "You realize I'm taking about knocking off your countrymen right? That, if I wasn't in this camp and owing you my life, I would have gladly killed you."

Skorzeny shrugged.

"It's war. People die on both sides. The only way to stop it is to end the war, and I somehow doubt that will happen soon," Skorzeny reminded him as he exhaled smoke. He paused for a moment before a mild smile crossed his expression. He added, "Besides, as I recall you certainly tried to kill me already. Keyword would be tried, of course. You failed terribly."

Churchill let loose a flash of a belly laugh.

"Oh, now you're just being clever, Fritz. And a clever Fritz is always the worse sort of Fritz," Churchill replied, nudging the bigger German. "So that plea? That request for my surrender? Never really talked about the past... Usually you threaten me with that Commando Order."

"That request? It was genuine, of course," Skorzeny admitted as he took another drag. "I do not make assurances unless I am willing to keep it. Though, as much as I didn't want bloodshed, it was meant to convince you how insane your course of action was."

Churchill could only nod.

"It almost worked to be honest," Jack admitted, his tone uncertain, as if he wasn't sure it was a right thing to speak of. "So many men died for nothing… I should have died as well."

The two men fell silent as they thought about the causalities sustained on both sides that night. Skorzeny lost easily thirty good men to the attack. Churchill, his entire team had been wiped out.

Though to be fair, whether Churchill knew or not, and he had it on good suspicion he did not, one of his boys managed to kill three of those three fingered aliens. This was a good thing. Those quarians needed to know that humans would not be an easy race to subjugate. And make no mistake about it, that was exactly what they wanted to do. The alien collaborators like Hoch and Langer had better open their eyes before it was too late. He did not want Waltraut's children serving any master that did not belong to Germany.

"Regardless, all I know for certain, you tying that Gestapo agent to the hood of your Opel Blitz truck was quite a nice bit of handiwork," Skorzeny spoke with a menacing grin. "I told my men to shoot at your boys in the back of the truck instead of aim for the engine block for a very good reason."

Taking another drink, he handed the bottle back to the Englishman.

"The Gestapo make me uneasy, painful death is all they deserve," he muttered under his breath.

Churchill raised the bottle briefly before downing a drink.

"Cheers to that," was all he said on the matter.

The two men continued their walkabout, paying no attention to the machine guns over them following their every movement.

"Perhaps when this war is over, I shall teach you to sword fight," he suddenly mused. "You are incredibly terrible at it. First lesson will be how one should never use a sword that's too big for you."

Churchill stared at him incredulously. Shaking his head as he tried not to laugh, he took a large gulp from the bottle.

"It sounds like a good idea," he finally shot back. "Right after you could also teach me to run away. That was the quickest run I have ever seen produced by a Jerry, especially when you're built like a goddamn bear."

The two men laughed.

 _ **"Time's up!"**_

The call came from the guard tower via a bullhorn. It belonged to Oberstleutnant von Reckow, who glared down on his prisoner and the SS man protecting him from retribution. Churchill looked up to the call; he tipped his hat towards the Commandant, who had somehow found a way to scowl even wider.

The gates opened and in entered a dozen sentries waiting at the entrance to the pen, their rifles trained on the Englishman, all of them barking for Churchill's compliance. It made to two professional soldiers smirk at the Luftwaffe sentries for their extra aggression.

Churchill outstretched the bottle, to which Skorzeny retrieved it from him.

"I suppose you're not going to behave while I'm gone," Skorzeny said as he closed the bottle of schnapps. "Should I keep my schedule open for this time for two weeks from now?"

Churchill appeared to have needed a moment to think about the query.

"I can't make any promises about my behaviour. So yes Skorzeny, I think another visit will be in order," Jack freely admitted as though discussing the weather.

Skorzeny chuckled, he hand hitting the smaller man on the back so hard that he stumbled in place. With that, Skorzeny turned and left, headed back to the Sentries position. He paused half way to the exit, slowly he turned back to Churchill, who stood there staring.

"If you have any letters you need to send, how about you write them and I will come back next check-up," Skorzeny called out towards the Englishman. "I can get in contact with Red Cross and have them mailed home. The prison camp mail system is slow after all…"

Churchill looked at him oddly, as though he would not have ever expected that such an offer would be made. Honestly, even Otto had to question it. He was still the enemy; an enemy that wanted to escape and step up his fight against his side. Why would he do such a thing?

Perhaps… Perhaps because had the roles were in reverse, he would have expected the exact same from Churchill: a man who was a victim of circumstances and a bad intelligence call.

"You would do that?" He inquired, smiling crookedly. Rubbing the back of his neck, he added. "Alright, I'll take you up on the offer. I'll even behave… at least for this week."

Smirking at his fellow Commando, the Skorzeny exchanged salutes and left.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Honestly, he wasn't quite sure why he was doing this. Something had to be done, of course, but the man he spoke to yesterday was still a virtual stranger to him.

Stepping into what use to be _Pierre's Garage Automobile_. It had apparently been altered into a repair yard for the German armour. Tanks were being wielding upon, armoured vehicles, trucks and small vehicles with what appeared to have been American markings were being repainted. Next to them quite possibly the largest tank he had seen. It had its engine pulled right out; the German crew were busy inspecting it.

"Excuse me?" Asher called out to them.

No one answered, not at first. The tank crews were busy fitting in new shells into their tanks. Wordlessly he blessed the American and British forces that just landed across the North African frontier. They would need all the help they could get when the Germans attacked.

Asher turned his eyes over to the right as he noticed a man approaching him. It wasn't Hoch, and he did not appear friendly.

"I am looking for Commandant Joachim Hoch. Is he available?" he called out to him.

The German stared at him carefully. This one was very different from Hoch, although he wore the same Runic SS markings on his collar. His wife referred to the Nazis as creatures less than human. It was a way to dehumanize them, to make them a foreign threat rather than men whom, at one point under different circumstances, could have been neighbours.

" _Juden…_ " he heard muttered by this SS man. It was a voice of clear displeasure. He might have been shorter and less built than Hoch, he was likely more dangerous.

He had used his wife's tactics on Hoch when they met the other day. He viewed Hoch as a Bear, one of those American Grizzly bears he had once read about in the adventure stories –big, tall, and capable of great violence if prodded into it by carelessness.

This Nazi was different from Hoch. He gave him the impression of a wolf - always on the alert and consistently violent. There was disgust in his eyes that showed Asher that this one was nowhere near as open as Hoch had been. If anything, he had realized that Hoch and the Rabbi had been talking and he was deliberating on making his Commandant's life a living hell for associating with Jews.

It made Asher understand the amount of risk Hoch was taking for even attempting to broaden his horizon. The man had already spent nearly three months being worked over by the Gestapo. This association could result in another incident, or worse.

This understanding unexpectedly raised the level of respect he held for this Hoch, further solidifying his view that perhaps men travelling down this hate based path were not lost causes.

Although it appeared to displease him, the German finally cleared his voice and in perfect French, said, "Follow me."

Asher nodded and followed the SS man past the armoured vehicles being repaired; past infantry stripping their strange rifles for cleaning eventually pushing through the shop they eventually reached the back offices. The German pushed open the door and ushered the Jew in.

Standing in the doorway Asher realized that nearly thirty pairs of Nazi eyes were looking at him curiously.

Slowly he exhaled. Perhaps he should have gotten changed out of his robes and left his Kippah at home first.

There sitting at his desk was Commandant Hoch, a pen in his hands as he was reading over the stack of paper's planted right in front of him. He looked bored. It was clear to Asher that Hoch wasn't a man built to be stuck behind a desk for too long. He was probably new to this type of command.

The wolfish German pushed past him and stood at attention in front of the Commandant. Hoch finally looked up

"Peiper?" Hoch said, speaking the soldier's name before looking around Peiper to notice that the Rabbi was standing there. He frowned for a moment, before reverting to German.

Almost by single file, most of the officers left with an exception to two men sitting in the back of the room together and the one called Peiper. Silently, Hoch leaned back into his seat and gestured Peiper out of his line of sight. Scowling back to Asher, Peiper obliged him.

"Is there something I can help you with, Rabbi?" inquired Hoch, reverting to his well versed English as the door closed behind Asher. Gone was any of the vulnerability he had shown the other day. He was a professional now, and no personal encounter he shared with Asher was going to come before that.

Instead of smiling, Asher simply pulled off his Kippah.

"Many of your Vichy policemen have started to increase the harassing of my people," he started, trying to hold his eyes on the burning stare from Hoch. "They have been siding with the gentile merchants trying to scam the Jewish ration ticket holders into paying more than their gentile counterparts. Since you are in charge, I was hoping-"

"Herr Hoch, why are you even entertaining his complaints?" The one called Peiper spoke in English, his accent extremely thick. "This is a standard tactic of the Jew. Divert your time and resources away from real concerns, such as managing your prisoners."

Asher ignored the words as Hoch did. He took one step closer.

"I… I was hoping if you could restore order."

Hoch looked at him for a moment; his eyes stared hard as though he was searching for any signs of overdramatic storytelling on Asher's part. It gave Asher a cold chill to be honest. Finally he turned he attention away from him and went back to his paperwork, leaving him standing there wondering what would be the German's judgement.

Finally, Hoch dropped the pen and leaned backwards into his seat. He took the cigarette from out of the ashtray and took a careful inhale.

"Hertzer," he spoke up, making the grinning German in the corner of the room stand up into a state of attention. "Gather your crew and take Sigrid down to the Jewish quarter. I want you to machine gun all of the police presence down there."

Asher's mouth dropped open as the room went dead still from the order Hoch had commanded, once in English, the second time in German. Without so much as thinking, he nearly rushed Hoch's desk. Before he could, the one called Peiper, reached out and grabbed him by the back of his jacket, nearly yanking him right off his feet. Hoch stood up, stubbing his cigarette out, he gestured to Peiper to let him go.

Peiper obliged, shoving Asher out of his hands and towards Hoch, who was leaning against his desk. Hoch stared down the shorter Peiper for a moment before turning back to the Rabbi.

"No, Herr Hoch. I don't want people killed over this!" Asher spoke, higher than he had intended. "I think this can be done peacefully. I want to stop this harassment, but I don't want children fatherless over it!"

Hoch chuckled humourlessly as he reached over his table to grab his officer cap. Slicking back his hair, he pulled it over his head. Gone was much of the humanity. He was yet another faceless clog in the German war machine.

"You want me to handle the problem, however you fail to understand that force is the only thing that anyone seems to understand these days," Hoch spoke, his voice a low rumble as he seemed to tighten his pistol belt. "Common sense has apparently gone extinct."

Asher nodded his head only slightly for him; he could understand the frustration that plagued the German. However, just because he could understand, it did not mean that Hoch was right. Killing people outside of combat was flat out wrong. Why couldn't he seem to understand that?

"I will not argue that valid point, but I will not have bloodshed on my hands," he stated as firmly as he could. His attempt at dominating Hoch earned a laugh from the man called Hertzer, who stood at the door, unlike Hoch the bear and Peiper the wolf, Hertzer looking like a hyena just begging to be unleashed.

Arching his eyebrow at the English Jew, Hoch stared at him for a good long moment. Slowly, he pulled himself off his desk and stepped forward to close the gap between Jew and Gentile. He leaned down, his mouth only inches from Asher's ear.

 _"And you wonder why the European Jews have been rounded up like cattle so easily…"_

Hoch pulled away, leaving Asher stunned. Behind him, a rough cough from the Hyena Hertzer. Hoch looked away and started barking his orders in his native tongue to him and then another man apparently called 'Mann'. Both men gave their agreements, collected their things and left the offices.

Rapid German was suddenly fired between Hoch and Peiper. It sounded angry to him, more so than the standard German conversing. Asher did not believe that Peiper was enthused with the willingness to help the Rabbi Hoch had displayed so openly.

The Rabbi looked at the scene outside of the garage. Hertzer and his crew were pushing themselves through the hatch of one of the huge German tanks. Mann had gathered a whole army it seemed and were making their way to Hertzer's tank.

Asher turned his attention back to Hoch, who was gesturing to him to climb into the car. Nervously, he obliged the SS man. He took a seat in the front passenger seat before Hoch wrenched open his damaged car door and slammed it behind him.

"You wanted it dealt with; well you got it, Rabbi," Hoch stated as he turned the key of the shot up staff car. "Your business is talk, mine is force."

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

This was beyond believable.

The moment he and Asher pulled into the Jewish quarter, they were greeted by what appeared to be the entire Jewish population out in the street. All of them were shouting. The source of the anger appeared to be from the twenty or so Vichy policemen standing in the middle of the street, their pistols drawn at the crowd.

Pulling the car over, Joachim kicked open the shot up door and climbed out, his eyes narrowed at the Frenchmen now looking at the arrival of the marching German troops and the Tiger behind them. The only one to break rank from the French had been the leader, a chubby looking lieutenant.

"What is this?!" Hoch shouted at the lieutenant in what little French he knew.

The Lieutenant turned back and snapped to attention at the sight of his new boss. Hoch did not return it as he looked at the overemotional crowd. Some of them appeared to have been bleeding rather heavily. They were already being attended to by the Jewish doctors.

Joachim looked to Asher, who looked rather miserable.

"The shop owners have decided that since you have enacted a curfew on them, they will have to up the food prices, starting in this section," the Lieutenant called out to him in English. "These Jews have been ripping us off forever, the tables have turned now."

Hoch exhaled and went for his cigarettes.

"Mann," Hoch called out, switching back to German. "I want your men to pull the shop keepers out of their shores and bring them to me. Use the rest to round up these police."

Mann nodded and turned to bark orders to his company. With that, the two hundred men of Mann's company broke rank and scattered about, some entering the shop, others stood guard and kept the Jewish crowd from approaching the scene any closer. Hertzer came to a stop and turned his Tiger turret in the direction of where the infantry ran off to.

Hoch turned to Asher. He looked uncomfortable. Like he had not grasped what running to a military unit for civil affairs would lead to. Hoch turned away again from the gathering and found that his men were coming back, dragging dozens of civilians and the rest of the police with them. They were lined up next to the policemen already surrounded, all them confused.

"What the hell is this?" The Lieutenant shouted out. Joachim ignored him as he coughed the phlegm build up from out of his throat.

 _ **"I have a question I wish to ask you all!"**_ he shouted out to the shopkeepers and to the police lined up with them. _**"Does my presence in this town give you the right to ignore the laws in place and revert to a greed driven authoritarianism?!"**_

Joachim stepped forward.

"I will admit that it would be easier if I simply locked this place down and made this city my playground. I am strict about a few matters and it will likely affect the city, but having the police stand by your stores and informing them that the prices have increased is a boundary I am not crossing," he continued. "Whatever the prices were yesterday, they will remain the same. Bougie is now under price freeze as ordered by me this moment, and by tomorrow when I speak to Magistrate about the matter."

Hoch trailed off to turn his attention to the French police lieutenant.

"Go about your business, this sector of the city is now under direct German supervision," he informed the officer. "Next time, I see this, your people will die, that you have my assurance. I have neither time nor patience to spare for authority abusing pissants who are too cowardly to serve."

The Lieutenant went wide eyed and bolted at Hoch. Before he could reach him, half a dozen of Mann's men smashed into him, dropping the Frenchman down. All of them took violent swings at him, beating him to a pulp. Hoch chuckled and turned away. He stepped over to Asher, who looked sheet white at the violence happening in his streets.

"Rabbi, you will inform these people that there will be no abuse of authority," Hoch pressed on to the attentive Rabbi. "In return I expect full cooperation and adherence to any law already set up and whatever a designated officer says. Any abuse of authority will be reportable directly to me. _Genuine_ abuses, _provable_ abuses. I will not abide slander and will hand the sector back to the police if I think pettiness begins to surface. Are we clear?"

Asher seemed to nod.

"That is reasonable…" Asher agreed. "I shall see to informing them. I will make sure that his section shall not strain your efforts."

Staring at Asher for a moment, Hoch finally nodded. Although he planned on joining Mann to inform him of his new detail, from the corner of his eye, he could see that the Rabbi had not yet moved to inform his people. Joachim rubbed the bridge of his nose and turned back to the man.

"Is there something else?" he inquired.

Asher nodded.

"Yes. I was wondering if you would like to come over tonight," Asher spoke, shuffling nervously in place. "It the Shabbat dinner this evening, and Shiran –My wife… she seems to think we have children at this very moment. I'd you to come as my guest."

All that Joachim could do was stare at him.

"You're a sadistic man, Rabbi…" he finally spoke.

The Rabbi burst into laughter for the first time.

"Yes, sometimes I find it in me to tease my wife in rather terrible ways," he agreed, pressing his hand against the taller man's back, making Hoch stiffen in place. "What better way to do so than to bring you along for a Shabbat dinner?"

Hoch remained silent for a good long moment. Did he really want to do this? It was one thing to talk, it was quite another to show up at a Rabbi's house for Dinner. As much as it made him uneasy, he also did not want to be trouble to him. His wife was probably less open about allowing somebody like him in her home.

Still, it was hard not to turn down the earnest expression on Asher's face. It reminded him of Langer in some ways.

"I don't have anything to wear other than this uniform," he said to the Rabbi finally. "Tell me where you live. I will make an attempt to come by 7:30, but feel free to start without me if I cannot join you."

Asher nodded and pulled out what appeared to be a day planner. He wrote in the pad and then ripped out the page, handing it to the Standartenführer.

"So you do not forget…" the man informed Hoch as he took the paper from the Rabbi.

The Rabbi cracked him a grin as he waved his hand as he turned to find his own people to inform them that his request had been successful.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Saluting his guard detail outside of the manor he had acquired for Heinz Guderian to serve as his command post, he stepped into the home. It had been where the Magistrate had been living. Since he had been so willing to give Joachim the town's fuel supply, he imagined the Frenchman would be open to happy sacrificing his home to the Generaloberst once he came back from his scouting operations.

As it turned out, the Magistrate was less than enthused by the order. Instead of offering him the illusion of choice, he forced the whole family out and situated them at Bougie's city hall. It was more than enough of a comfortable setting for them for the time being.

Offering another round of saluted to the guards inside the front atrium of the home, he looked around until he could hear what he thought was the voice that belonged to Generalfeldmarschall Rommel in a middle of a conversation. Hoch exhaled as he removed his peak cap and wandered down the long winding marble hallway to the conference room.

He was on the verge of joining the Knight's Cross club, but still he felt nothing for the honour he was about to be given. To him the honour and the rank he now held were fleeting. He would be a traitor soon; all of this no longer mattered. All that mattered now was survival. So that he could no day rebuild his reputation. Perhaps this time it would not be ideology based. It would be for his country like it should have been.

Perhaps instead, he could be an advocate for the war against the geth. He would likely not see it, but to be there making sure that no one forgot the promise that would be made when the quarians finally introduced themselves to this planet. Reaching the door to the conference room, he wiped his mind and turned his focus onto how this conversation would go down. It was almost certain that Rommel would have orders for him that did not involve fighting the Americans.

The door opened and out stepped General Orlando Ward, the American Commander of the 1st Armoured Division. The smile on his face vanished the moment he noticed he was only an arm's length away from the man who killed so many of his boys. If it had not been for the sentries following him, he probably would have started a fight right there.

"General Ward," Hoch greeted, coming to attention and snapping out a salute.

The General turned to Hoch. His eyes glared with understandable anger into the younger, junior officer. Regardless of his personal feeling to the German in front of him, Ward extended his hand out and saluted Hoch.

"Congratulations, Colonel. Rommel told me about you earning Knights Cross of the Iron Cross with Oak leaves and Swords," Ward said, his words filled with deep seething rage. "I hope that the blood of nine thousand men was worth your godforsaken medal."

Joachim stared for a moment. Slowly, he shook his head.

"No, it's not," he agreed with the American. "I'm sorry for what I had to do. Have a good trip to Italy."

Hoch saluted him once more and pushed past the curious General, closing the conference room behind him. There perched over the table stood Erwin Rommel, focused on his work.

"Come in Hoch..." Rommel called out to him as he looked up from the maps left by Guderian, who was off scouting out the routes he would bring his approaching army.

Ignoring the intuition in Rommel's assumption that he had been indeed the one to enter the room Hoch obliged and stepped out of the doorway and entered the room. The side door opened and in walked a quarian dressed as an Oberst. It was the Admiral, Utala'Falan. She looked like she was in pain of sort, like she was sick.

"You have no idea how proud I am of you, Hoch," Rommel spoke as he pulled his attention away from the paper maps to finally look at him, offering the younger soldier a fatherly grin. "You have exceeded all of my expectations the moment I got word you had engaged the enemy while they were on the run. I have no words to properly express this feeling pride."

Next to him, the quarian inclined her head.

"Yes, congratulations for your victory, the Admiralty Board is most pleased with your soldiering ability," Falan rasped as she took a seat next Rommel. "When we make it to Earth, I should like you to help teach our ground forces. With the exile, we have neglected the quarian army doctrine quite a bit."

Nodding in gratitude for a job offer that didn't involve stabbing his countrymen in the back Joachim followed suit, sighing as he too took a seat across from the ill quarian.

Without any words, Rommel opened his briefcase and pulled out a small velvet box. Quietly, he slid it over the table to Hoch, who simply looked at it with a mild curiosity. Looking from the smiling Admiral to the proud Generalfeldmarschall, Hoch gingerly opened the box.

There sitting on red velvet sat a medal that, had it been a year ago, would have had brought tears to his eyes. The ribbon, the traditional red white black, the silver Oak leaves with the crossed sword engraved into the silver, the swastika in the centre of the Iron Cross, with the year 1943 engraved at the bottom.

Smiling slightly, he turned it over, there on the back was his name engraved as well.

He could hear his old self now: _'Take the medal, you idiot, unclasp the back and wrap it under your collar, put it where it rightfully belongs. You earned it! You earned this honour!'_

He might have earned it, but it did not mean it felt right to him.

Giving the Knight's Cross one last look, Hoch folded the ribbon and carefully placed it into the velvet box. He slipped the box into his trouser pockets.

"Most men in your position attach it to your uniform right away."

The words belonged to Rommel. It caught his attention and forced his expression of guilt to flash before the Generalfeldmarschall's eyes. Rommel's eyes widened, slowly, he allowed a slight sympathetic smile to be revealed.

"I see," Rommel breathed. "I've seen that look before. It's been some time, but I have seen it before."

Utala'Falan looked over to Rommel curiously. Rommel sighed, he leaned into his seat.

"The first time I got behind the lines after what I did in Carporetto, that expression was the first thing that greeted me when I looked in a mirror," he explained to the younger soldier. "It's a hell of thing, isn't it? Taking a few men and destroying a greater number than yourself… it changes everything. You are no longer the same man."

Hoch allowed a crooked grin to be revealed, he nodded his head.

"I killed nine thousand men," he said finally, trying not to reveal just how terribly he felt about the Battle of Aguni Lahwa. "These weren't the untrained Slav hordes, tossed at us on the suicide charges. These were trained men, amateurs, but well trained. Why did they break so terribly? I should not have perused. I should have fallen back. It was one thing killing two thousand when they attacked us, but nine thousand when we retaliated? Its madness; sheer insanity-"

Rommel held up his hand.

"You cannot plague yourself with the _'why'_ questions. You will only drive yourself mad," Rommel warned him as he leaned forward, his expression reassuring.. "You survived, your men survived. You live on to fight another day. Any further analysis then that will drive you into irrationality. Your men will need you in proper form. A battalion unit is only as competent as its commander."

Joachim rubbed the back of his neck.

"I don't think I'm built to take command; a company or two perhaps, but two thousand men? I don't think so."

It was Rommel's turn to sigh.

"I did not think so either when I went through Carporetto," Rommel admitted, earning a look of surprise from the SS officer. "Good leaders realize the damage they are perpetrating. One never wants to become a cold machine calculating when they are in command. The last thing anyone wants to become is Erich von Manstein."

The quarian coughed.

 _"I thought you said you respected him..."_ Admiral Falan murmured under her breath.

Rommel exchanged a smile with the quarian before turning back to Joachim.

"Hoch, I have spoken with your men; from Peiper all the way to the common soldier," Rommel pressed on. "Your men are proud of you. It's all that matters for the time being."

Hoch laughed slightly; the thought of Peiper being proud of him seemed farfetched to say the least. For now, this praise would do, whether he planned on staying in the military after the demise of the Waffen-SS. Hoch simply did not know. He very much doubted Hanala would like to have a drifter as a husband… or whatever she wanted out of him in the future.

"Herr Hoch, new orders have come in," Falan spoke as she slid the glass of water to Joachim. "The plot presses forward and you know will be coming into play sooner than you think."

Hoch nodded and sipped the drink. Yes… the plot.

"As we speak, Minister Speer is manipulating the Führer into taking some time off. The destination shall be the Kehlsteinhaus – The Eagles Nest – Adolf Hitler's personal getaway home," Rommel explained carefully, lapping his fingers together. "Your old friend, Ernst Kaltenbrunner has buried your records and will be naming you as the head of the SS detachment assigned to guarding the Fuhrer during his vacation."

Joachim simply stared at the two of them. So… this was what they called him here for.

"You will blend in and serve the Führer in whatever capacity he sees fit," Falan continued, scratching her arm. "When the time comes, however, you will have a choice to make."

"Capture the Führer and call to the quarians for evacuation… or shoot him there if need be," Rommel finished.

Joachim nearly choked on his water.

 _Kill the… kill the Führer? Were they mad?_

Hoch could not believe this. He may not have wanted to serve the Führer any longer, but to outright kill him? After all the good he did for the Fatherland, and yes, few could doubt that he had raised Germany from the pit of the Depression and back to a greatness Germany deserved! Sure he had to step on many, but wasn't it worth it? Wasn't it what attracted the quarians to Germany in the first place?

No. He could not do that. He might have been a traitor, but he would be an assassin!

"I cannot kill him. I _will_ not kill him," Joachim breathed to the two of them. "He has given us all so much. To murder him outright would be insane, he needs a trial if need be, but he is not a monster."

Neither of them believed his delusional denial.

"Whatever the case, I am booking for a flight back to the fleet for you in a few days," Falan pressed on. "You are to have that arm removed, even the nerve lacers. You cannot bring such material to the Kehlsteinhaus, of course. Do not worry; it will be waiting for you for reattachment."

Joachim rubbed his machine arm. He had only started getting use to this new appendage. Now he had to be a one armed abductor. Good god, are they serious?

"Do you have any questions?" Admiral Falan asked, catching Joachim attention away from his private musings.

Hoch shook his head.

"None yet."

Hoch glanced to his wristwatch. 6:00 PM, plenty of time to prepare for meeting the Rabbi and his wife for dinner. Hoch leaned into his seat and paid attention to Rommel and Falan once more. He could see it, strange glances at one another. Ones that he had shared with Hanala…

Clever old Fox…

"I have one question, actually," Hoch suddenly called out.

Falan and Rommel looked at the junior rank curiously.

"Why is it that Admiral Falan is having an allergic reaction?" he inquired plainly.

Admiral Falan froze, her hands immediately flying to her face to check out if her skin was puffy, which it clearly was. Finishing the last of his water, Joachim stood up from his seat, his eyes never leaving Rommel's narrowing eyes.

"I mean no disrespect, but it usually happens if someone like you has been sweating on top of her," Joachim pointed out, his expression and words neutral as Rommel appeared to lose all colour in his face. "Hanala and I have this sort of reaction all the time… except that we are both in an official relationship…"

Saluting the stunned Generalfeldmarschall and Admiral, Hoch stifled a laugh as he left the room to the two of them. From a distance, he could hear an argument that only lovers seemed to share.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

"How could you do this? Invite such a beast to our home. All these years you have promised me you would resist and here you are offering your own food to this animal? Such things are incomprehensible!"

Bucking the last of the carrots up and tossing them haphazardly into the stew, Shiran Asher groaned in utter disgust by her husband's blatant naivety , Her and fell underneath her pregnant stomach as she wandered her way to the silverware drawers. Now she had to set a third seat for a Godforsaken Nazi drone of all things.

What in the hell was going on in Edward's head? He's a Rabbi, he should have known better!

She loved him to death, but Edward Asher could find empathy in the Christian Devil himself. And here he was, inviting one of the devil's servants over to dinner. Was he out of his mind?!

"The Vichy Police have been harassing us for almost three years now," Edward reminded her as though she had been asleep since Paris fell and Vichy sued for peace. "One day and one request by me and the Commandant restored order. Other than the soldiers and their guns and the barking in German, it's almost normal."

Dropping the plate down, she turned her eyes up to stare at Edward as he collapsed into his seat. So what if it took a German to restore decency in their neighbourhood? It was one kind thing in a sea of evil they were perpetrating against the world; Jew and Gentile alike. She sighed. Yes, he was right. The French hadn't been particularly cruel to them, but they were not above harassing them. When times got tough, it was always a surprise to see just how men felt for other men. Before the occupation, many had been quite kind. Apparently it was only on the surface.

"Sure it might be for today, but will it last until tomorrow, or the next day?" she scrutinized as she set the silverware in their proper positions. "You said it yourself; he would not be here for long. Just because he won't be here, will not mean that the Germans will leave, and who's to say they will continue on his good charity?"

She shook her head.

"Besides, you said he was SS. One of Hitler's policemen," she reminded him haughtily. "Why would he do this? What does he have to gain by all of this kindness?"

There was no reply at first. She had thought she had won this argument until she heard.

"I know this may sound hard to believe," Edward spoke slowly. "But I think he's in a lot of pain."

Shiran froze and turned in place to look at her husband. He looked lost; surprised that he had said such words about a Nazi.

"I think he hates his choices," he pressed on for her benefit. "I know that he doesn't like Jews, and it is likely no intentions on changing that opinion, let alone converting, but I think he wants to be saved. I think he needs a friend, which is his opposite in every way. I want to be a friend to him. At least I want to try…"

Edward trailed off with a soft sigh.

"Hoch is right. Things are not as clear cut as it looks."

For a brief moment, Shiran believed her husband, believed his conviction and sincerity that this man might have been an exception. Perhaps someone like this Hoch could be indeed different than she had told herself he would be.

This feeling…It only last a moment however.

Shiran smiled and joined her husband. She shook her head as she leaned down to press her lips against his cheek.

"It's that sort of attitude that put German Jews into the situation they are in today," she softly replied as she pulled back and turned her attention to lighting the candles. "They found their Gentile neighbours dressing in khakis, screaming _'Seig Heil'_ , and they looked for a way to ignore it, insult the threat like it wasn't serious - or worse - find reason in it. Next thing they know they're foreigners in their own country. The only way a Nazi is salvageable is in death, and even then..."

Setting the candles in place, she turned away and pulled off her apron. Before she knew it, Edward's arms were around her.

"You have many theories, but the real question is: Will you be as brave as you are now when our guest is here? Will you voice your opinions and judge him to his face?" He said, turning her around. "He's different than what I thought he would be. This you will see, wife."

The clock struck 7:30, ringing once. The two of them looked at each other for only a moment before a knock on the door caught their attention. Slowly that slight smile Edward got whenever a private joke occurred spread across his mouth. Shiran rubbed her head and turned away.

Again the door knocked, this time more insistent.

"Say what you will about the Germans. When they say they're coming at a certain time, they come," Edward said to her, the smile on his face translating into a sunny tone in his voice. "Go on!" He continued. "I'm going to give a private blessing. I don't think our guest would like it if it was performed openly."

Giving her husband the evil eye as he let go of her and instead went about making the blessings in Hebrew, Shiran left the dining room and wandered down the long hallway towards the front door. This was a nightmare; this had to have been a nightmare.

Ignoring the lurching feeling in her gut, Shiran opened the door.

Standing, easily three heads taller than she and a head taller than her husband stood the German. His uniform made her freeze up in place for only a moment. Then she noticed the expression written on his face, one side of his face was heavily scarred. It wasn't sour, or angry like she had been anticipating. He looked somewhat confused, worried perhaps, like he wasn't sure why he was here.

He remained silent; his hand clutched the bottle of wine he had brought for the dinner. His other hand reached up and pulled off his peaked cap, resting it under his arm. If he hadn't been a man who believed that he was ethnically superior in every way, shape and form, she might have considered him handsome. Her eyes fell as she noticed what appeared to be a holster…

"Frau Asher?" He finally spoke, his voice a gravelly rumbling in surprisingly clear English.

Wincing as she felt the baby kick, she lost her cool collection. She looked up to the expressionless German. He looked inhuman.

"I'm not some plump German. It's Mrs. Asher," she retorted, her voice unexpectedly high and angry as she stood in the doorway, blocking the man, who could quite clearly lift her right off her feet.

The German blinked at the display. For his part he remained silent, physically close, but emotionally distant. Probably a skill he had honed killing and assaulting the Jews across Germany.

"I brought wine," he said finally, holding the bottle out as though Shiran ought to have been impressed by his generosity. Instead of taking it, she crossed her arms.

"We have wine," she grumbled as she took a step back. "Besides, this isn't blessed."

Gone was the impassive look. The German narrowed his eyes, the simple movement sent shivers down her spine.

"Your husband is a Rabbi," he reminded her in a low growl. "He can bless it."

"It's the Sabbath," she nearly stuttered. "This wine is useless until Sunday."

The two of them stared at each other. It took all her effort not to collapse under his glare.

"With all due respect to you, _Mrs. Asher_ , you are barking at the wrong man. I'm liable to bark right back," he warned her. "I'm sure the Rabbi would not like his pregnant wife in a fit of tears."

Before she could say anything Edward nearly rushed out of the dining room and down the hallway towards the miniature war starting to brew between the two of them.

"Welcome, Hoch!" He exclaimed. "Shiran… Shiran, my dear, he has come here in peace. Give him the benefit of being a good host. Do come in Standartenführer. Thank you for this wine."

The man looked at Edward for a moment before inclining his head and stepping into the home at long last. He closed the door behind and handed the bottle off to Edward, who examined it carefully.

"Your wife is pigheaded," the German spoke plainly.

Shiran nearly reared her hand back and slapped in the Kraut's face, right there, right then. All Edward could do was laugh nervously.

" _Standoffish_ would be a better word perhaps," Edward excused her with a faint smile for the taller man. "She's just giving you the traditional Jewish welcome: Being rude when it doesn't call for it. Shiran, this is Standartenführer Hoch. Joachim Hoch, am I correct?"

The giant Nazi named Hoch nodded, reluctantly, he extended his hand –most likely because he was disgusted with the interaction he had to endure. Looking from the interrogative look from the German, to her Husband's encouraging smile, she reluctantly reached out and took the man's hand. They held it in place for a moment before the two of them allowed their grip to loosen.

"A pleasure to meet you, _Frau_ Asher," the German spoke, a note of humour crossing into his tone. "Thank you for being so kind as to make extra."

Before the wife could say anything, Edward reached out and led the taller man towards the dining room, leaving her silently cursing her husband's generosity once again.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Dinner had turned out to be better than he ever thought possible.

"You dug into this a lot quicker than I thought you would have…" said the Rabbi's wife; she looked almost amused at the sight.

Gulping down his glass of red wine in one swallow, Hoch dipped his soup spoon into his bowl for another mouth of the vegetable soup called a Hebrew name, but Hoch didn't give a shit about the proper name. It was vegetable soup.. He paid no attention to the bemused Shiran and Asher, who poured him another glass of wine; Grinning toothily as he set the spoon down.

He wasn't sure if it had been his talk with Rommel, or this hot meal, but it seemed that all the issues plaguing had been suppressed, for how long he wasn't sure, but at this moment, he was going to get stone dead drunk and simply forget that he was now acknowledging that his countrymen were performing wholesale genocide.

Downing his glass of wine once again, he set it down and turned his attention to the chicken on the plate. Grabbing his fork and knife, he went not work on it.

"I'm sorry. I have not had a home cooked meal in about a month. I've been surviving off rations and whatever we captured from the Americans," he explained as he turned his attention to Asher, then to Shiran, adding, "My compliments Frau Asher, you have a bad attitude, but you can certainly cook. It makes up for it. You're a lucky man, Rabbi. I have a woman with a bad attitude and can't cook at all. She refuses to even try. She's sort of a Princess type… looks down on common skills."

Asher laughed slightly from across the table as he sipped his glass of wine carefully. Shiran was not quite as amused. Hoch turned his focus back to the grilled chicken. Yes. Hanala needed to learn to cook. Then again, she would probably skin him alive if he so much as asked that she take a traditional human female role…

"Hoch… may I ask you questions?" the Rabbi suddenly spoke up. "About some of the things you were speaking about the other day?"

Swallowing his last mouth of chicken, he turned from Asher and looked to Shiran, who stared back impassively.

"And is this a topic you wish your wife apart of?" he inquired as he finished swallowing. "The moment I open my mouth, I'm liable to be hit by her."

Shiran narrowed her eyes. Hoch smirked right back at her as he set the fork and knife down on his emptied plate.

"Don't you worry about me... I don't think I want to hear it, anyways. I need to lie down anyway," Shiran said as she dropped the Ashtray in front of Joachim and collected his plate.

Joachim stood up as she started to make her way out. So did the Rabbi, who stood up and touched her arms. He leaned inwards and pressed his lips to her forehead. He whispered in their language as his hand touched against her stomach. Shiran allowed slight smile before escaping her husband's hands and left the room for a well-earned break.

Lighting up his cigarette, Joachim took a seat. He paid no attention to the Rabbi taking a seat right next to him. Grabbing the bottle, Asher poured Joachim another drink.

"What do you want to know?" he muttered as he exhaled smoke from his nose, his machine hand reaching out to take the glass.

For the first in that evening, the Rabbi showed off an expression of distress. He laced his fingers together as he leaned closer to the Waffen-SS officer.

"I want to know what you meant by lack of morality," Asher asked predictably.

The Standartenführer gave the Rabbi a ghost of a smile.

"Has it been keeping you up at night? Has it left you pondering how an outsider views the Jewish morality in tough times?"

The Rabbi nodded his head.

"For every one German I saw, there were two or three with a Star of David patch and a baton," Joachim murmured as he drank from his glass. "Not once did I see a German move in to touch the Jews being sent off in a way I could classify as abuse. No. The most violent ones on the departure area were the Jewish police force, sending their fellow Jews off to their deaths; and for what exactly… a few extra days of life?"

"Desperate times, cause desperate decisions to be made by desperate people," Asher returned as he attempted to rationalize what he was processing.

Joachim rolled his eyes.

"That is no excuse for betraying your people. In such great racial upheavals, it would be the time for pulling together, not stabbing each other in the back for personal gain," Hoch shot back at the response. "My Father use to rant about the German Revolution shortly after the war. How the civilians stabbed the chance for real change in the back for supporting the Freikorps. He was dead wrong; he was one of the poisonous Germans. He was just as poisonous as the Jews beating their own race on at the train yard…"

Asher looked at him oddly.

"Your Father stood against the right wing fanatics as well as your mother?"

Hoch snorted. Typical Jew, ignorantly aggrandize Communism as some sort of saviour.

"You don't know my Father, so don't you dare speak any reverence for him," Joachim warned Asher, trying to remain polite. "Communism has no place in Germany. We made the mistake of not forcing Karl Marx's mother to have an abortion."

There was a lull in the conversation. Hoch turned away from Asher and focused on the wine. He was pretty lightheaded by now.

"You mentioned a woman before; a potential Jewish sister-in-law a woman who got you in trouble with your secret police," Asher inquired as he leaned back into his seat. "You said her family had vanished. What became of this woman?"

Allowing a crooked smile to appear, Hoch scrapped his chair closer to Asher. Leaning in, he touched his figure to the heavy pockmark scar that covered his left cheek.

"See this?" he inquired. Watching Asher nod, he said. "The moment she did this to me, she was dead. Not by my hand obviously. Getting shot in the face usually prevents a reaction."

Hoch snorted as he scrapped his chair back, his head shaking in place.

"She pulled a gun on me the moment I figured out that she wasn't proper German stock," he pressed on to his one man audience. "How stupid could she have been? I offered her every chance to run. I told her that I would not turn her in; I was even willing to help her to leave. I could have taken her north to Denmark, somewhere where she could escape. But she didn't listen. She shot me and now she's dead."

"It sounds like she was distraught… driven to madness," Asher whispered as though mourning for the long dead woman. "You offered her more than most in your position would give I think."

Hoch did the reminder any merit. It was only the woman's fault she had to die. She was so stupid, unbelievably stupid.

"No survival skills... no common sense," Hoch grumbled as he exhaled his cigarette. "God, how could your race be so stupi-"

" _We're not stupid_!" Asher suddenly cut him off, his tone actually angry. "We're _scared_ , Hoch and there is more to life than simply fighting. Do you not understand? We're frightened… Dragged from their lives by men with guns, sent God knows where to… to… God knows how many children fighting would endanger..."

Suddenly to Joachim's surprise, he burst out into a hysterical laugh. He wasn't sure why. Perhaps it had been how naïve this Rabbi was, how wilfully ignorant he was behaving. Hoch wasn't berating him, he was warning him! This man fought in the final year of the first war. Surely he knew better than such dribble!

 _"Are you even paying attention to me? Now is not the time to be frightened!"_ he retorted, higher than his usual tone. "Your people are dying by the _trainload_. They are dying, betraying and fighting each other for a few extra days of life. Being scared is no longer a suitable excuse, thinking someone will save you is not an excuse either. I know this because I saw this…"

Joachim trailed off, lost in his thoughts.

"There is no God protecting the Israelites, not anymore…" he finished, his voice monotone as he stared ahead. "If you were God's chosen people, I don't think you're in his favour anymore…"

Hoch turned away, leaving the Rabbi stunned. He ran his hand nervously through his hair. He dropped the cigarette into the ashtray and rubbed his eyes, a thin inexplicable smile crossed his mouth.

"Do you think they're dead?" Asher spoke at last. "This woman's family…"

"I don't know…" he said, "I have no idea… I…"

Joachim trailed off. Suddenly a thought came to him, a plan formulating in his head. He had connections to a vast conspiracy that wanted him to kill the fucking Führer. If they wanted his aid, then they would have to help him first! They were in no position to deny him anything!

And he already knew what he wanted to do.

Hoch grinned slightly and stood from his seat, surprising the Rabbi. Silently, Hoch slapped his hand onto Asher's shoulder.

"I… I have to go…" Joachim finally said. "Thank your wife for me. I have a few calls I need to make."

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _ ***RIIING RIINNG***_

The sound of the telephone in his offices opened Ernst Kaltenbrunner's bloodshot eyes.

Groaning, the Austrian rubbed his face and rolled over to latch his arm around Elisabeth for only a moment before he pulled himself up as soon as he heard the sound of the phone echo throughout the home. Squinting he could see the time on the clock read three in the morning.

Who in the hell would call this late… early… whatever.

In a trancelike state, Kaltenbrunner wandered out of the bedroom and down towards his private offices, closer and closer to where the ringing originated from. He yawned as he opened the door and picked up the phone receiver, pressing it to his ear.

"Kaltenbrunner here," He grumbled as he slumped into his chair as he rubbed the sleep from out of his eyes.

 _"Good morning, you piece of shit."_

Kaltenbrunner's sleep addled mind woke up like one of von Braun's rocket experiments. That _bastard_ … how _dare_ he call him?

" _It's Hoch. Remember me, you dimwitted Austrian scumbag?"_ the bastard continued to taunt him; his words were clearly slurred by alcohol. _"You see, I checked in with Admiral Zorah and he told me something interesting… that I was now in charge of all SS assets they had acquired. Since you now work for me, I have a few inquiries you're going to make…"_

Kaltenbrunner remained silent as the little shit prattled off.

Privately he pondered his revenge.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: Clean up**

 **I'll see about posting another chapter or two. This is a pretty short story at 11 chapters.**


	4. Futility

**Chapter Four: Futility - January 26th, 1943**

 **…**

Joachim felt sick.

Between the two days of binge drinking, meant to build up his confidence for the rash plan, the time zone jump, the rapid transportation provided by Admiral Zorah and now here he was standing in front of the front gates to Buchenwald Concentration Camp.

From the looks of the place Hoch wanted nothing more than to vomit already.

Standing there in the snow surrounded by a dozen SS-Totenkopfverbändecamp guards, Hoch reached into his trouser pocket to produce his cigarettes. The action caught the men's attention. They too broke out their cigarettes, having seen a much more senior officer do so.

Taking a drag, he went over the plan hastily started that night at the Shabbat dinner. It just sort of came to him. If the quarians had wanted his unconditional loyalty, then they would have to oblige whatever he wanted. At the moment, he wanted to do right. He wanted to make up for a death he might not have done, but certainly caused.

He was going to get the Ruach family out of this hellish prison he stood in front of.

After forcing Kaltenbrunner to do some research, he had tracked their movements, from capture in September, to now. They had been placed in Buchenwald, probably in their labour program. Well not for long. He was going to get them out and drive them to Potsdam, where Admiral Zorah said someone would be waiting, then head up to Denmark, get in touch with whoever up there smuggled Jews out of the country.

It was going to work. It had to work.

"Standartenführer Jochen Hoch is it? Or is it Joachim? Whatever it may be, Welcome to Buchenwald!"

Joachim turned around and found a short, chubby and balding Standartenführer approaching him. He looked unnaturally happy in Joachim's opinion. His eyes flickered to the Knight's Cross around his neck, which Hoch wore it for good measure. He needed to present himself as a dominant in this man's own home.

"My name is Hermann Pister. What brings a no good Waffen-SS dog such as yourself to my camp?" the Standartenführer named Pister inquired his expression bright as he teased the Waffen-SS Standartenführer.

The smiling faced man stopped before him, his hand out and offered to Joachim. Joachim swallowed the urge to break it and simply took it into his, shaking the hand firmly, his eyes scanning the camp behind Pister. The guards broke off and went back to their routines.

"Thank you for seeing me, Standartenführer Pister," Hoch greeted the man, reluctantly shaking his hand. "I have a personal request issued by Herr Kaltenbrunner."

The Standartenführer eyebrow arched as Joachim opened the briefcase on the hood of the car and produced a RSHA document. Hoch offered it to him, which the Commandant took, his eyes scanning the typed letter provided to Hoch from Ernst Kaltenbrunner, who was reluctantly working at his order.

"Some of my inmates have been accused of a murder?" the Camp Commandant inquired; looking up to meet Hoch's dead eyed stare.

Joachim simply shook his head.

"Not quite, they are witnesses to a murder of a senior Waffen-SS soldier, Hauptsturmführer Horst Jalink while on his way to the Netherlands back in November," Hoch corrected him, lying through his teeth. "The RSHA and his superiors wish to question them, all of them if it is possible, I require Gerhard Ruach, Erik Ruach and Sara Ruach."

Pister reread the report written by Joachim's own hand. He looked away, turning his focus to stare upwards at Joachim carefully. He appeared to be inspecting him for deception. Joachim held his eyes on him. He was not about to give any sense of weakness in his stance.

"Yes, if it is indeed possible of course," Pister finally spoke, unlocking his eyes from Hoch's, much to the younger man's relief. "An outbreak of Typhus might have killed your family of witnesses. Whatever the case, you're free to look around, so long as you put a good word in to Kaltenbrunner on my behalf. The man has been a wondrous change up from that spastic Heydrich. Take as many Jews as you may need, I have plenty to spare."

Pister gestured to the gates.

"If you'll excuse me; the family is waiting for me. Lunch with the family is the tradition," the old man spoke warmly, slapping Joachim's shoulder. "You will soon have a family of your own to realize how important finding time for family is."

Joachim felt disgusted as he smiled with gratitude seeping through his silent rage.

"I will let him know he has your friendship, thank you for permitting this," Hoch returned to Pister, forcing a bright smile for the son of a bitch. "He will not forget this favour, neither will I, friend."

And he would not forget. Exchanging salutes and _'Heil Hitler',_ Joachim watched as Standartenführer Pister walked away, Joachim Hoch mentally marked the Commandant as carrying a death sentence on his head. He would do it himself.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _What was going on?_

He had been in the factory, working on munitions construction like always when a rifle wielding sentry wandered up to the shift manager, told him to pull him off the line. From there the guard grabbed him and dragged him off the line, out of the factory and through the courtyard of the prison camp.

Had he done something wrong? Had they discovered his sister and Hilde Wessel, the young girl hiding there with her underneath the floors of the boys barrack? Oh god, they were going to die.

Pushing through the execution square, past the children's barracks, the fear did not leave Erik Ruach, not one bit. It did however peak his curiosity. What had he done to warrant himself a trip to the front gates? Did the Commandant want him on some sort of special duties?

Standing at the gates stood a man, much too tall, much too young and much too fit to be Commandant Pister.

"Herr Standartenführer, The Ruach family is down to just this boy, as you requested," the guard spoke, throwing Erik to the feet of the staring Nazi. The snow broke most of the fall.

As Erik struggled to his knees, he felt the cold barrel of the rifle press into his back.

"Go about your duties," the Nazi dismissed the bastard guard. Nodding his head and gripping his rifle strap, the guard left, leaving Erik at the feet of the Nazi. Dusting the snow off his thin trousers, He stood up and looked at the man standing over him.

"Erik Ruach?" the Nazi finally spoke, his head tilted, the cigarette in his fingertips lit and shimmering smoke.

Eric did not reply, his eyes fell to the pistol hanging off his hip. Noticing that Erik was fixated on it, the Nazi pulled out the gun and tucked it away into his tunic. His eyes never softened, never left his. He was silently breaking down Erik's resolve. Finally it worked, Eric nodded.

So did the Nazi in return. He reached out and nearly touched Erik's shoulder. Erik flinched and flew back out of arms reach of the bastard.

"Erik, I need you to be honest with me," the giant Nazi spoke, his rumbling voice low as a guard past behind them, pulling his arm back to his side. "Do you have a sibling here? Is she in the female camp? I ask because your mother spoke of you both. That's why I am here."

Erik's eyes widened. _Mother_? She was alive!? How did she find them? How was it even possible? He had a million questions to ask, but simply no energy to question the strangely staring scarred officer staring at him. Losing his stance, Erik dropped to his knees.

"Where is my Mother…" he simply got out, fighting the urge to beg.

The Nazi did not reply at first, his resolve vanished. Without words he knelled down into the snow just as the boy had been doing.

"She's dead."

Erik gasped, the new overwhelming him. He could feel the water building in his eyes as he numbly took in the truth. Before he knew it, the Nazi leaned in closer, all of his sympathy was washed away, his scarred face contorting into a hard expression. That look forced the sob to vanish completely.

"Listen now; this is no time for you to grieve for her boy. That comes later, for yours and your sister's sake you will pay attention instead," the Nazi said, his teeth gritted as he forced the boy back to a state of reality. "I need you to be older than you are now, Erik. It is in your best interest to _help_ me. I mean you no harm. My name is Joachim Hoch. I believe you know my mother, Marta."

 _Marta Hoch?_ That was Mother's friend. He had heard that she had a son who had served, but this man looked nothing like the kind woman who had sheltered them for a year before having to move them southeast to Helmstadt. Frau Hoch said that there had been too much bad blood between them, that he was an ardent Nazi who would not change from his path thanks to the bad people who took him in. The Langers if he remembered what Frau Hoch said correctly.

So… what was he doing here?

" _You want to save us?"_ He breathed, unable to believe he was saying such a thing.

The Nazi did not hesitate to nod.

For the first time ever, Erik trusted the man standing in a Nazi uniforms, adorn in all sorts of medals.

Hoch's eyes widened as he looked over his shoulder. Erik turned back and found one of the inmates, a Gypsy, pushing a wood cart filled with emaciated bodies; most likely dead to the typhus tests.

"My sister is hidden," he finally admitted to Hoch, who appeared lost. "She was too young to be used for labour. Father wanted her nearby. Father said the youngest and oldest are killed first. Hilde hides there as well. Her Father was all she had; she takes care of Sara when I'm working… Can she come too?"

Hoch looked dazed, he turned back to Erik. He dropped his cigarette onto the ground. He seemed to have been thinking about the request.

"Will you show me first?" he inquired.

Erik nodded, together, the two of them walked into the nightmare that was Buchenwald.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Reinhard Heydrich's eyes flew wide open.

Another nightmare about Lidice, the feeling of the explosions, that agony of trying to walk afterwards, Thank God when he recovered, he had that village burnt to a cinder for what they did to him. Now those Czech's and Slovaks knew their places once again.

"I know that feeling," he heard rumbled from across the room. "Needing to sleep yet unable to pry your thoughts away from the terrible day to day life we live. In your case, worse than most, I suppose."

Heydrich nearly flew out of bed at the voice. He turned and found a light source being covered by a hand; it seemed to have been a lighter lighting up a cigarette. The lighter vanished; the only source of light came from the cherry of the cigarette.

 _"Who's there… turn on the light…_ " Heydrich demanded, his voice nearly barking out in the form of an order.

A low chuckling answered him. The cherry grow brighter as the figure inhaled his cigarette. As the room filled with smoke, the light switch flipped, illuminating the room. There, sitting in the room sat the man he wanted to see the least.

 _"Kaltenbrunner..."_ Heydrich hissed, baring his teeth as he pushed himself up out of the bed.

Ernst Kaltenbrunner, the interim head of the Reichssicherheitshauptamt, or simply, the RSHA, sat there on a steel chair set in front of the door, a means to keep unwanted visitors from entering, leaving Heydrich alone in the room with a real mean son of a bitch. His mouth was formed in a wide, arrogant smirk as he remained still, one leg crossed over the other.

Himmler had been frequently and franticly warned him about Kaltenbrunner and his ascent to power. That the hulking, alcoholic presentation had been a façade, meant to lure Himmler into thinking his vices could leave him under the Reichsführer's control. It did not work out this way and now Ernst was wandering off into the circles that could increase his power.

"Hello Heydrich, how are the lungs…" Kaltenbrunner started again, his smirk widening as he amended himself by saying. "My apologies, how is _the_ lung?"

Kaltenbrunner burst out into laughter, clearly amused by how desperate Heydrich had been if he voluntarily had one of his lungs removed. If he knew the amount pain caused by the quarian implants, he would have done the exact same thing.

 _"Himmler told me about your recent exploits,"_ Heydrich said as he sat up. _"How you are planning on usurping him, conspiring with the Party, with Goebbels, with Speer… God knows who else. You sit here before me, thinking you could dare to show your face around me?"_

Kaltenbrunner could only laugh at him yet again, the sound of the drunkard being so amused only served to anger the Hangman of Prague even further.

"Oh, will you just shut up?" the demented lawyer warned him, still amused at the state of Heydrich. "No wonder everyone thinks you're a faggot, prattling like a little drama queen; All but sucking that miserable little chicken farmer's cock at every opportunity. What happened to you? Where's the Heydrich who killed thirty thousand men for putting you in this state?"

Reinhard ignored his insults the best he could. He would not be perturbed by the giant insulting his name.

 _"Himmler may be terrified of you, but you don't scare me. You're just another loud mouthed, emboldened lawyer that I'm going to look forward breaking..."_ Heydrich growled as he stood up, staggering in place. _"I might have one lung, but once I've fully recovered, I would be more than pleased to show the world just how much of a stinking coward you are. How you hide behind your muscle… that Skorzeny... Now what do you want?"_

Kaltenbrunner scowled, making Heydrich smirk this time. Kaltenbrunner was too easy to egg on. His smirk vanished the moment the acting head of the RSHA opened his mouth.

"I want exactly what you want, but are too frightened to stand up and do it," he said as he too stood up from his seat. "I want to knock Himmler off the pedestal; I want you and I to take control of the SS, and then? Then we swoop in and take over the party."

Ernst paused for a moment as he lit his cigarette.

"Then… we knock the Führer off and control the country."

Heydrich could not believe what he was hearing.

 _"That's high treason, I should have you hung,"_ Heydrich hissed once more, a flash of loyalty splashing through his expression. _"It would be difficult to do, but not impossible."_

Before Heydrich knew it, Kaltenbrunner snapped his hands out and shoved him hard onto the bed. With him sitting down, Kaltenbrunner took a seat in his own chair as well, crossing one leg over the other.

"Oh, don't get _sanctimonious_ with me," Kaltenbrunner warned Heydrich, no longer sounding amused by Heydrich's defiance. "I come here to give you a chance to elevate you to Führer of the nation. To give you the powers you can only ever dream of. I am handing you a chance to determine the path of the Reich. So what if we spill our own blood for the short term? The weak must be wedded right out for the rest of the herd to survive. Much of the Party is weak, the Führer? He has led us so far, but even now he weakens."

Kaltenbrunner paused, allowing his words to settle uncomfortably into Heydrich's mind. As much as he wanted to gather up what strength he had at the moment and beat the hell out of the chain smoking alcoholic, the words…How terribly true they sounded to him, how they were exactly the same sort of thoughts that he had…

"The Fatherland needs an enema, Herr Heydrich," Kaltenbrunner concluded. "You and I are the men to provide a fresh start."

Kaltenbrunner fell silent, allowing the blonde to ponder what the Austrian was thinking. It all made sense; it was hard to believe that this drunkard had stumbled onto his private most thoughts.

 _"What about you?"_ Heydrich inquired, crossing his arms. _"You would not be suggesting this without motivation."_

Kaltenbrunner shrugged as he stubbed out his cigarette on the clean floor.

"I will take my appropriate slice of power, of course," he admitted. "I am not a man with great visions for Germany. I just want to be left alone to my own devices."

 _"And the aliens?"_ Heydrich challenged him. _"They hate us, tried to kill me with their technology. What's stopping them from destroying us?"_

Heydrich did not even blink. He had expected this to come up.

"While you were down, I have managed to secure a deal with Admiral Vaerhit," he informed Reinhard, still staring at him. "He wants off this world and he's more than happy to usurp his command if we were to destroy their work at the precise moment."

Heydrich furrowed his brow.

 _"Precise moment?"_

Ernst nodded.

"Just when their plans come to a final fruition, only then do we strike," was Kaltenbrunner's explanation "No sooner, no later and then you and I sweep in and regain control of the country… once and for all."

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

The trip back to Potsdam was a blur.

Joachim kept the accelerator pressed to the floor of the Mercedes as he roared down the Autobahn back towards his next checkpoint. His home, well, technically it was still his brother's home. Next to him sat two children, Greta's Ruach's children, Erik and Sara in the back seat, six boys, all of them uncomfortably laid down and covered in a blanket, in the trunk of the car, two more, a boy and a girl name Hilde who was hiding with Sara, older than her, she was taking care of the child.

He wasn't quite sure how he did it. The camp Commandant had went back home in all likelihood, as he said he would, leaving him the highest ranking man in the camp. No one questioned it when Hoch came out of the pen with ten children following him. Seething as he looked around to search for weak points he could report to the chiefs of the Wehrmacht, who, if they were the better choice for Germany would smash through the camps set up with panzers and infantry, killing all of those camp guard fuckers.

Ten children would not see that day.

He had grabbed ten children and left the prison in the dust without so much as raising an alarm. Still the pain in his gut did not cease. He had left hundreds behind and he knew, he just fucking knew he would not be able to make a second trip. The rest would have to wait. Potentially die even. Even if they did survive, their continuing suffering would be on his hands still.

He should have done more. He should have left and came back with one of those quarian assault rifles and their shielding technology and blew the ever loving fuck out of all of them. He would have started the rebellion right there and then.

The bodies, the quarries they mined without the proper equipment to make it efficient, the men, half starved, ill with God knows what, heads shaved to prevent the lice. Hoch smacked his head hard, ignoring the gasp of the little girl next to Erik. These thoughts needed to go away. He could not dwell on them!

Pulling the car into the driveway of his home, he could hear the children in the back seat whispering, they sounded nervous. There, parked in the curb was a Kübelwagen. Hoch turned to the boy and his sister, both of them looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Stay here," he commanded them.

Not waiting for confirmation, Joachim climbed out of the car and stared at the Kubelwagen parked on the sidewalk. It was neither his nor anyone he knew. Rubbing his mouth, he hoped that Halid'Zorah was right about him.

Turning to squint through the dark and snow fall, there was a man sitting on his front steps, uniformed and clearly an SS man. Glancing back to the children, all of them still keeping their heads low, Joachim unsnapped the pistol holster cover and, resting one hand on his Walther he started his approach to the stranger Zorah had sent to him. He wasn't going to take any chances.

The unfocused SS man looked up, his eyes widened as Hoch approached him. He jumped up and snapped to attention. Joachim blinked. The blonde hair, the blue eyes, that perfectly angular face; He looked like a shorter, less arrogant Reinhard Heydrich.

It was his brother. It was Joachim's eyes turn to widen his own eyes. Of all the men in the SS, how in the hell could this one betray the cause?!

 _"Good God,"_ Hoch breathed. "You look just like him."

The younger Heydrich brother smiled crookedly as he shifted in place, like he was ashamed by the comparison. Hoch could not blame him if what was how he felt.

"I get that a lot, Herr Standartenführer," he admitted to the taller man sheepishly. "I have heard quite a bit about you from the alien admiral Zorah and from Von Rundstedt. Heinz Heydrich it's a pleasure to meet you."

Heinz Heydrich offered his hand, to which Joachim shook gratefully. The man, a decade or so older than him seemed to have been an alright man considering his origins. He watched Heydrich turn from him and opened his briefcase, nearly fumbling as though worried the atmosphere was going to shift to a hostile one. He produced three letters to hand over to him.

"I brought the papers as you asked, they should let you though the border. I hope you know what you're doing," he said, glancing to the direction of the car.

It was Joachim's turn to become sheepish. He rubbed his neck.

"There has been a complication," he admitted to him.

Before Heydrich could question what exactly did the Standartenführer had meant by complication, Joachim left his company and briskly stepped back to the car. He paid no attention to Heydrich following him. Pulling his keys out, he unlocked the trunk and helped the two children, two boys, out of the vehicle.

With that, the car doors opened and out climbed nearly a dozen children from the medium sized Mercedes, all of them starved and haggard by their ordeal. Hoch rubbed his neck as he noticed how dumbstruck the Obersturmführer had become at the sight of the children standing together as if they were standing at a pitiful inspection for the SS men.

"Go into the house and do not turn on the lights until I come inside," Hoch spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Silently, the two men watched as the shabbily dressed children climbed out of the car and almost moved in single file down the driveway, as though they were a line of prisoners still. Erik looked back at him, his eyes clearly filled with hatred. The two SS men did not look at them until they entered the home and closed the door behind them, leaving Joachim and Heinz to themselves.

The moment the door closed behind them, Joachim could see that Heydrich was close to having a fit. His eyes widened as he rounded back to the superior officer.

"With all respect, Hoch, ten children… _**TEN CHILDREN**_?" he nearly shrieked, paying not an ounce of attention to how loud he was. "You said two, I expected two! Perhaps even three if the Father was still alive. How in the hell did you end up with _**TEN**_!? How-"

"I don't know, Heydrich. I must have scared the Standartenführer into minding his own business," Hoch explained to the fuming Heydrich brother. "I had no intentions on bringing this many. I was not even expecting that I would bring two out of there. The moment I named dropped Kaltenbrunner, the Commandant stayed out of my way. I saw the boy, who brought along his sister, and then I saw the other children…one hundred and fifty… two hundred perhaps, I don't know... I just sort of went into a trance, next thing I know I've loaded my car up with as many children as I thought it could hold."

"Hoc-"

"The place was ghastly… They were working the inmates to death, I saw hundreds of bodies being prepare for burial I think," Joachim interrupted his mind wandering back to the camp. "T-to think that there are more of these facilities out there, _worse_ still than Buchenwald is… How…"

Hoch trailed off, his words dying as his mind overloaded with sheer disgust. He shook his head in an attempt to empty his mind from such a nightmare.

"I need your _help,_ Heydrich," Joachim started again, looking back to Heinz, who stood there equally as stunned. "I have been working out a new plan. I could dye what hair they have with peroxide, if you were to change the papers to Lebensborn. They could be children that I discovered in an orphanage in the Algeria... I think it could work. I just need a bit more of your help."

Joachim pressed his back against the car door, slowly sliding down the side until he hit the snow covered side walk. It was the sidewalk still stained by his blood, by Greta Ruach's blood on that fateful day in October. He felt sick thinking about that; he wanted nothing better than to throw up once again.

Above, him, Heinz Heydrich started to pace.

"Alright… let me think…" Heydrich muttered, before turning back to him to add. "Do you have a cigarette? My wife doesn't abide smoking."

Joachim nodded and dug into his pocket, throwing his case and lighter up to the waiting man. He turned away to stare at the snow building up on his lap. A tap caught his attention. It was Heinz passing him back his material. Without words, he bent down to a squat in order to meet the miserable looking Hoch in the eye.

"Okay, I guess I'll head to _Das Panzerfaust_ , I'll have the documents and transfer papers made up and I'll come back with whatever clothing I can find," Heinz spoke in between inhales. "I'll head there and be back tomorrow morning or afternoon."

Joachim nodded and for a moment, it felt like a huge burden was lifted off of his chest. Perhaps this would work out after all.

"Thank you Heydrichh" he finally murmured.

Heydrich nodded and slapped his hand onto Joachim's shoulder. Pulling his hand off him, Heinz stood up properly as he dropped his cigarette.

"Until tomorrow, sit tight," Heydrich reassured him. With that, he turned and left, grabbing his briefcase and making his way to his Kübelwagen.

Hoch remained sitting there until he heard the Kübelwagen pull out of the curb and drive off into the night. Exhausted, Joachim stood up finally, summoning what little courage he left and reluctantly started his way up the drive way, carefully stepping around where he had been sprawled out, wounded by Greta.

Taking a deep breath as his hand rested on the doorknob, Joachim turned the handle, stepping into his brother's home. Almost immediately he heard whispering. Whispering that ceased the moment he had closed the door behind him. The house went dead silent. Exhaling, Joachim stepped forward, his heavy boots pounded against the wood, the sound actually caused one of the children in his living room to sob, one of the three girls by the sounds of it.

Rounding the corner and entering the cold lounge room, Joachim found the children in a two by two line, mismatched, but disciplined with all things considered. Joachim wondered how quickly such lessons were taught to such young children.

Stomping as lightly as he could, he moved past them and took a seat on the edge of a one seat sofa; from there he simply stared at the gathering.

"Children; you can sit down and relax," he spoke up at long last.

None of the children listened to his request. They all stared at him wide eyed, as though they were expecting him to turn a gun on them, or punish them as though Hoch had issued some sort of sick trick on them. Joachim tugged off his peaked cap and rubbed his head. This wasn't going to be easy.

"We will be staying here tonight; there will be rules for the next day," Joachim spoke up, causing one of the girls to jump in place. "No one leaves the house for any reason other than my orders, no one looks out a window, and if I need to go out, all lights will be turned off until I come back."

The children did not answer him to confirm if they understood. They simply stood there watching him, waiting for the trick to be played. Some of them appeared confused by the lack of violence offered by Hoch.

Hoch turned away and went to find his wallet. He needed to go to the shops, have them open this late at night for a shopping trip. He would have to harness whatever cooking skills he might have picked up from Lene while he lived with them. He couldn't exactly call her for tips. He had not informed them he was on the mainland yet.

"I'm going to go out," he spoke to the group. "I will pick up something for supper for you all."

The mere mention of food perked their attentions. Erik's sister looked up at her sibling hopefully. Joachim cleared his throat.

"I'm leaving…" he repeated. "…so?"

 _"Keep the lights off, do not look out the window and do not leave,"_ the children suddenly droned.

Joachim stared at them all carefully before turning to leave the home to the desolate looking adolescences. The moment he closed the door, he leaned over into the bushes near the stepped and threw up.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

It was an hour of sitting in the dark before Hoch had come back to him where Erik and the others had waiting. All of them still worried that this had been some sort of trick. When he showed up, their trust in him might not have been sealed, but it went a far way.

After lighting a fire in the stove, finding them all very ill-fitting clothing that belong to him, which they would wear after they bathed. Hoch went to work, pouring them glasses of water and milk, slicing up bread, cheese, cakes and precooked sausage meat. He cooked beef, he cooked bacon and eggs and he made soup even. None of them cared if it was Kosher, or made of pig. They hadn't eaten this well in years. They would take it.

Hoch vanished somewhere into the home, allowing them all to eat without him there to scare them. Inwardly deep, deep, deep down he felt somewhat bad that they were treating him like a pariah. Outwardly, it did not matter, His sister for the first since they were sent to Buchenwald, was actually smiling.

"You. Do not eat so quickly," Erik heard barked.

It was Joachim Hoch. He had come back into the lounge room and was inspecting the feast. No one but Jacob, who was slurping down the soup took notice to his annoyance. Snorting, Hoch turned away and focused his attention Erik.

"You, come with me," the Nazi – Hoch - commanded him. Just as he was about to lift the bowl to bring with him, to protect it from Jacob, Hoch added. "Leave the meal; it'll be right there in the same condition when you come back, Right _boy_?"

The giant glared down towards Jacob, who was eying Erik's bowl of soup. The boy nodded and retreated, going to find more to eat.

Erik looked to his sister for a moment. Kissing the top of her head, he stood and moved towards Joachim, standing there silently. The Nazi turned away and wandered down the hallway towards the bathroom, Erik only a few steps behind him. Trying to ignore the bad feeling in his gut and the curiosity of what exactly was in Hoch's hand.

He wanted to say something, anything to this man, a man who he hated and wanted dead, yet could feel nothing but gratitude in his heart.

Before he could say anything, Erik found out exactly what the SS man was carrying. A photo frame was pressed into his chest, which Erik instinctively caught; pulling it back to look it, there stood a man in a vintage uniform. The same one his Father and Grandfather wore, he was a serious as the grave, but Erik supposed that was the case for anyone who wore a uniform. Standing next to him…

It was Mother.

She looked so young, so different… She was vibrant in a way that he could never recall Mother to have been ever. That was true even before the serious restrictions had been set in place against their people. Here she seemed so... so in love. This man… they were in love. Erik might have been young, but he knew it when he saw it. Or at least he thought he knew it.

"Found this in the drawer. You may keep it," the Nazi spoke up, his voice flinchingly cold. "This was to be your mother's home. Hans Hoch's death was probably the best thing that could have happened for you."

Ignoring the envious feelings that he wished he knew this form of his mother, Erik smiled slightly as he tucked the picture frame into his pocket. Turning the corner, the two of them entered the bright bathroom, where it appeared almost like a doctor's room. Bleach and hydrogen peroxide, a large bottle of alcohol and a half filled glass.

"Take off your shirt and kneel on the mat, lean into the tub," Hoch ordered.

Erik silently obliged the order. He pulled off his stripped shirt and threw it aside. He stepped forward and planted himself on the mat. He leaned forward into the tub. Suddenly, Hoch turned the handle, turning on the nozzle of the shower; the water was cold at first, then heated up. Before he knew it, Hoch was lathering his head with soap, scrubbing it until he felt it was clean enough.

"What do you know about Marta Hoch?" he inquired, washing the last of the soap away.

Erik did not reply. He waited until Hoch was finished drying his scalp with a towel before he could speak.

"She was nice," Erik finally admitted as Hoch dropped the towel. "She found us a place to hide, visited us every month for a year, brought us food and convinced our hiders to keep us hidden. One month she did not come. Two months later, they kicked us out."

"A couple months later, you were caught…" Hoch finished his thoughts on his behalf, the sound of gloves were being pulled on caught his attention, before he could turn around; Hoch's hand forced his head down so that he was looking right into the bathtub.

"Close your eyes, this will burn."

The moment he did so, he could feel his scalp suddenly doused in smelly liquid. Almost immediately it started to burn excruciatingly, whether from the liquid in his scalp, or by how much friction Hoch was creating by the constant rubbing, Erik just could not tell. He bit down onto his lip hard.

He would not cry, he would not cry in front of the likes of him.

"Mother said she sold most her things to pay for us… Marta Hoch, I mean," Erik spoke up, still staring into the bathtub, his teeth gritted as another douse of hydrogen peroxide was poured into his scalp. "Why did she stop?" He pressed on, blinking the tears out of his eyes. "Did she run out of money?"

There was no reply as the friction hardened. It felt as though the Nazi was trying to scalp him with his bare fingers.

"She died," Hoch spoke distantly. "She was killed by the English."

The words hit the boy hard. It felt like he had lost a second mother. It explained why she had stopped coming, why they got kicked out… why they got caught…

"She talked about you a lot..." Erik spoke up, not sure why he was doing so. "She said you made a mistake joining what you joined… told us you were in the east, fighting the Russians. She said a party official came by to congratulate her... for earning that... Used the money they gave her for us."

Erik pointed up to the beautiful medal attached around Hoch's neck, Hoch quirked his lips. He pulled his hands off the Erik's hair. Slowly, he shook his head. His gloved hand gestured to the Iron Cross on his chest instead.

"No… for this one..." Hoch said. "She was right though… I made a mistake. She was right about me… She was always right about me…"

Erik watched in wonder as the giant soldier's eyes filled with tears. He gave off a struggled breath as he shook his head and sniffled. Rubbing his eyes with his forearm, he grabbed his glass of alcohol and swallowed a mouthful.

He paused, his eyes red as looked down to Erik. A slight smile crossed his face as he offered his glass to Erik. Erik stared at the glass suspiciously. He hadn't… he hadn't ever thought about drinking yet. He was thirteen. Mother and Father looked down on people who did it.

Still… it wouldn't hurt to try it he figured as he took the glass, took a gulp like he saw Hoch do.

Erik's face contorted into surprise as his mouth heated up into what felt like a liquefied explosive. His first taste of Whiskey had ended in complete and utter failure.

Hoch, for the first time since they met, laughed.

"Strong stuff?" Hoch inquired, looking amused as Erik continued to hack violently, handing him back the glass of dark poison that he was somehow could drink.

Wiping his tongue as though it could somehow erase the taste, Erik leaned over the tub once again. He could hear the glass set down on the stone floor and again, Joachim Hands went back to work rubbing more and more of the bleach into his hair. This time, it as much lighter than it had been before. He must have been nearly done now.

"These people you hid with," Hoch suddenly spoke up. "Where are they, who are they? Did they have any children?"

"They're on a farm. Mother said it was outside Helmstadt," Erik informed the inquisitive SS officer, without a delay. "Trier was their last name... No children that I saw."

Joachim simply nodded his head and gestured for Erik to stand up. The boy obliged the sitting giant.

"Alright, wait for it to dry before taking a proper bath, send in the next child," Hoch spoke, his voice now back to a brisk authority.

Erik nodded once more and started to door. He stopped himself from leaving. It took all of his nerve, but he turned right around and met the Hoch's eyes with as hard a stare as he could produce.

"I hate you. I think I shall always hate you," Erik stated, his words frank as he stood there staring at Hoch, sitting there on the floor, staring at his drink.

There was no sign of anger from the Nazi as the boy left the bathroom for saying something so hurtful.

"That makes two of us," He heard Hoch return, turning back to drink once again.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Closing the door of Heydrich's private hospital room behind him, Ernst Kaltenbrunner ignored the cries coming from that dog faced bitch, Lina Heydrich, who carrying a baby, wanted to know why he had not checked in with her first before seeing her husband. He nearly slapped the cunt right there. He would have had he not needed Heydrich so terribly.

Marching down the hallways of the hospital, Ernst lit up his cigarette and took a drag.

It had all been a lie: Overthrowing the Führer, the party, working with the aliens. Only someone as delusional as Reinhard Heydrich would believe such tripe, an ambitious, yet pathological risk taker, all it took was the right buttons to press and Kaltenbrunner knew he had that little half-Jew in his pocket.

Heydrich would have his uses, and there was no denying that he would go about Kaltenbrunner's suggestions with great efficiency, but at the end of the day. Ernst knew the undeniable truth. The Aliens had infiltrated almost all of the power groups in Germany, as such; it was only a matter of time before they decided to close the noose on Hitler and his cronies. With immunity promised for his support, Ernst decided that he would help them. But that did not mean he would leave them to their designs quietly.

Yes… he would cut and run, but no… He was going make all of those treacherous bastards bleed and shed tears for their prize.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: Clean up, cut out a Japanese Army vs future character's father in Burma scene.**


	5. Wrecked

**Chapter Five: Wrecked - January 27th, 1943**

 **…**

He wasn't sure how the others could do it, but Erik Rauch found it next to impossible to sleep.

Perhaps it had been the near silence, the exception being the occasional sound of boots creaking on the wood flooring and the crackling of the fire place; boots which belonged to a pacing Nazi just downstairs. Perhaps it was the fact that they were situated in the home that once was to be his mother.

Why was he doing this? He had to be gaining something out of this. He was a bad man doing a good thing. There just had to be a reason. Was it guilt? It seemed likely to him that it was. Few people knew how to change their ways. He doubted Hoch was one of them.

For now all he could focus on was his Sara. She was fast asleep, her little fingers curled into his borrowed shirt, her face buried in his chest. They had been like this since their days on the farm. Back when they were safe and did not know the horrors their own countrymen were doing to people like Sara and him, and for what reason? Nose length, the Torah and two thousand years slights starting with killing their Christ?

Taking great care not to wake up Sara and startle her enough into scream, Erik took great care to disentangle himself from her, until finally he managed to free his arm from her grip. He sat up and tipped out of the room.

What he needed now was some fresh air. He had not heard those boots of Hoch in a while. Perhaps he had finally turned in for the night. It gave him a perfect chance to finally get out of this creepy home. It felt haunted, like a lingering sadness had been stained on the place left by the death of Hans Hoch; haunted by his mother's apparent love for a gentile of all things. A gentile whose brother ended a full-fledged NAZI!

Pushing the thought of how Mother would have turned out a Hoch from his mind, he stepped off the last step of the staircase and crept along through the hallway to the backdoor. He needed to go outside. It was three or so in the morning, no one was a awake. He just needed to be alone for a few minutes. He would even stay away from the snow so that he did not leave any marks.

As he reached the door He paused as he noticed what appeared to be a scrap of paper that was left pinned to the door. He looked at it carefully.

 _Hanala loves Hoch._

It looked almost childlike, like the person who wrote it was only just learning how to hold a pen, let alone write in German. Shaking his head and dismissing it as yet another creepy thing about the home, Erik unlocked the back door and stepped outside.

The chilly winter air hit him, making him shiver slightly. Still he relished in it. The air smelled so fresh, the snow in the backyard was virgin powder. It was so beautiful. How could a bastard like Hoch could be in possession of such a place. It gave him the impression that he wasn't just some soulless Fascist bastard.

It did not matter if he had saved him and his sister. He was a Naz-

 _ **"Why are you breaking my rules?"**_

Erik jumped on the steps he was standing on, his foot hitting the edge; he stumbled down the last two stairs and into the snow covered grass. Pain shot through his backside as he groaned out heavily. He paid no attention to heavy boots clunking down the stairs towards him. He rolled over; rubbing his short freshly bleached blond hair.

"I'm sorry. I just-" He started.

But Erik did not have the time to make an explanation. Before he knew it, Hoch had leaned down over him and gripped him up from the snow by his ear. Pain shot through his face as he pulled himself up; only to have Joachim drag up the stairs and back into the house. There was no remorse in his expression. It was like he thought it was justified when it wasn't. It was just another case of a racist bastard exerting his control.

As soon as they entered the living room, Hoch pushed him down into a sitting position. Erik slumped in place, glaring hatefully upwards at Hoch, whose back was turned as he wandered to the liquor cabinet to fix himself a drink.

" _Asshole_ ," he hissed at the Nazi bastard.

Hoch poured himself a drink and turned right around. He looked almost amused by the display as he tilted his head.

"What is it with your lot?" Hoch retorted as he took a generous gulp. "I set down rules to keep you safe and you flaunt them the moment you think I'm not around. This may come to you as a surprise, but I did not help you escape, only to get caught. So stay in the _**GODDAMN**_ house."

The sudden rage shown by a man, who understood how to command it and turn it into fearful respect had forced silence on the teenager, then came along a sudden feeling of shame. The adult was right. This wasn't a situation he could control. He was still in Nazi hands, but these Nazi hands were offering him an escape. He would take it.

"I'm sorry, Herr Hoch," he murmured quietly. "I just needed to go outside. It's late. I thought that a few minutes-"

"A few minutes are all it takes, boy. One wrong move and your sister will not get to hide like last time; so now is not the time to be a stupid little shit," Hoch warned him, his gruff but no longer poisonous. "Besides, I thought Jews were men by your age... so _act_ like one."

Again Erik nodded, fighting the feeling of shame and guilt at how much Joachim was right. A little venture risked absolutely everything. He needed to be more responsible… for Sara's sake at the very least.

"Why aren't you asleep?" Hoch muttered as he turned away from Erik.

Erik did not reply; he simply watched as he reached into his pocket and removed what looked like a pill bottle. Shaking the bottle, he pulled three pills out and swallowed them. As soon as he turned back the boy averted his eyes, ignoring the strange noise coming from the SS man.

He needed to know the truth.

"How did my mother die?" Erik spoke up finally, finally gathering enough of his bravery to search the sinister looking man in the eyes. "Did you kill her? I… need to know."

Hoch stood there, staring right back at him. His hand was gripping the glass so hard that he actually heard the faint sound of glass cracking. Although it did not seem that he did not want to discuss the topic, he obliged the teenager. He stepped forward, his heavy boots cracking the floor. He leaned down, only a few inches from his face.

"No… she did this though," Hoch said, pointing to his facial scar. "She shot me, I was down and… and my friends shot her down in response."

Erik's mouth hung open. His mother had actually tried to take a life. This was… this was unbelievable to hear. Mother never raised a hand in anger, even in the worst of times. He stared at the scar up close for the first time. She must have stolen that gun from the Trier's…

"Why did you go with the bad people?" he suddenly inquired, looking to the SS man who was tugging off his tunic, revealing suspender straps over his long shirt.

Hoch leered at him as though Erik had made a joke.

" _Bad people_?" Joachim repeated like Erik had something peculiar. "What are you, a child? Do you mean the National Socialists?

All Erik could do was blush at how childish he must have sounded by repeating what his Mother had said to him. It was true, but it certainly did sound like something Sara would say.

"No, the Langer family," Erik elaborated for the SS man, not paying attention to Hoch narrowing his eyes at the remark. "Your mother said they were evil, that they took you and corrupted you to Nazism, which they lavished you with all sorts of things to make you stay… then they sent you off to Nazi school..."

Erik trailed off as he realized just how close Joachim was standing.

"You call them evil one more time and I will break your jaw," The giant growled at him, his finger poking him in the chest with enough force to make Erik stumble. "You don't know the first _thing_ about the Langer's, or my Mother, or my situation."

Hoch gritted his teeth,

"What a piece of work my Mother was… her first courageous act was to save you all," he said to the boy. "Well that's real great. Saving virtual strangers is nice, but where was that courage when she was being beaten by my Father? Where was it when he was hitting me? Where was her sense of protectiveness and self-sacrifice she suddenly learned?"

Hoch snorted, shaking head in clear disgust.

"Do you know what was worse than having your Father who would lay his fist on you at such a young age?" he inquired rhetorically. "When someone you loved, someone you absolutely loved and tried to defend when you were just a five year old, suddenly and inexplicably ignores you. My Mother simply stopped talking to me. I was six years old when the silence started, for years there was nothing but silence. It wasn't until I busted in some school kids head did she finally have the sense to snap out of her state. By then I was your age and I was through blaming myself."

Hoch paused. He looked away from his drink and back to Erik.

"By then, I no longer hated myself," he murmured. "I hated _her_."

Hoch took another long sip from his glass.

"Let me tell you something else," Hoch pressed onwards, his mouth sneering. "Being treated like a ghost was infinitely worse than the beatings. At least then you had a tangible reason to hold hatred for a parent. Silence made me wonder if it was something I had been doing; just a little boy at fault for a grownup's mistakes."

He fell dead silent as the glass in his hand cracked further, the drink started to seep through the cracks. Muttering a profanity under his breath, Hoch downed his drink and threw the glass into the fireplace. Wiping his lips, he turned back to Erik. Gone was the anger.

Erik ignored the pang in his stomach: it genuine sympathy for Marta Hoch's Nazi son.

"So yeah, I love the Langer family," he said to him, his voice blank. "I was accepted the moment I stepped into their lives. They never hid or withheld anything from me, never had a bad word to say to me. In the few years I have known them they have been more of a family to me than my own _blood_. If becoming a National Socialist was really the cost for their affection, then not only was it worth it, I would do it all over again in a heartbeat."

Hoch sighed; he stood from his seat and went to find his liquor cabinet. Instead of reaching for a glass, he grabbed the bottle of amber liquid and took a drink.

"The world isn't black and white, boy," Hoch concluded. "Your hero is the woman who I hated most in this world…"

The morose expression turned into a look of disbelief, then strange amusement, then out of nowhere, the giant suddenly burst out into incredulous laughter. It was wild and almost pure sounding to the boy.

"Listen to me…" He said in between his laughter. "Confessing these sorts of things for the first time ever… and I'm confessing to a stupid, thoughtless _kid_."

He trailed off.

"Go back to sleep, Ruach," he said, still somewhat humoured. "Hold your sister tonight. If I fail today, you're all off to those camps again."

With that, Hoch stood from his seat and headed up the stairs to his room. His departure left Erik suddenly very frightened for his and his sister's future.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Hanala stared at the mirror in her quarters through her bloodshot eyes, alone and naked.

Since she regained consciousness she had avoided all mirrors. It worked for a while, deluding herself into a sense of physical immunity, but now she could no longer pretend that what happened in Algeria had not happened to her. She could no longer pretend that the physicians could do anything more for her. She had to face the truth. She wasn't the same woman any longer.

With great ease Hanala peeled the biotape running from her cheek to the beginning of her neck. She stared wide eyed at her reflection, disgusted at what was looking back at her. The entrance wound was terrible, long and purple. The exit wound was a clean hole, but the flesh between entrance and exit was pushed upwards, as though her face had suffered a seismic event. Like the exploding bullet had created a tunnel just inside of her face.

She allowed her curiosity to get the better of her and gently touched the injury. The moment her fingers delicately grazed the flesh, she retracted, horrified by how hard it had already become.

Hanala refused to cry. This was her doing. She would have to live with it.

She would simply move on, she forced her attention to the other taped areas, unpeeling them to show the scar tissue now covering her body. Her shoulders, a breast, her ribs and abdomen; some were small holes, others half the size of her fist, and this was only her front. Her hand grazed against the gauzed medical tape covering her burn scars, still trying to heal. How she survived this, she could not be for certain.

With the last of the tape removed, Hanala inspected herself.

 _Keelah_ , what would Joachim think about this? Although she had kept in touch with him whenever she could find a moment to herself, she had not exactly told him just how much damage had been inflicted. He might have seen it, but he was probably too busy keeping her alive to focus on the long term effects of what happened.

He probably would not mind most of them. He did not seem to mind her implants all too much. The only one that concerned her at this point was how hideous the lower, right side of her face would appear. Yes, she was being vain and aware that had the bullet angle had been more level, she would likely to have been killed. Despite that, she quite alright with being concerned with her own looks.

Pressing an auto-injector with her daily routine of painkillers, Hanala dropped the injector into the sink and pushed her hand through her hair, the tips incinerated by the fire, the left side of her head had been nearly shaved to treat the gash in the side of her head. If Lene Langer saw her, she would have an aneurysm and die at how ruined she looked.

Hanala pulled the scissor blades off the side of the sink. Although she could not do anything about the scars, at least she could fix something; make her look less like a Varren tried to rip her to shreds and more like a woman. Taking a deep breath, she plunged the scissors into her heavy, dark locks of hair and snipped.

Hanala blanched as she watched the hair fall to the ground of the bathroom. She could not believe she did that, she had cut off fifty centimetres of femininity off her head. Biting her lip, she steeled herself as she did it again and again. Long clumps of damaged and brittle hair fell off her head, her hand ran through the cleaned up areas to make sure it was relatively even.

"Hanala! What are you doing!?"

The sudden call out surprised Hanala, she yelped in pain as the blades of the scissor cut her scalp just above her ear. Before she knew it, a cloth was being pressed against her new wound. Hanala rounded back, expecting a nurse to have been the culprit. She was about to slap the bitch too when she paused, her eyes widened.

"I'm so sorry, Hanala," the woman said out loud, her expression filled with empathy. "I mean Admiral Jarva… my mistake."

Rala'Navora vas Daimea.

Hanala nearly had to do a double take. She had not seen her since she was eighteen. How fast could time fly? Rala and she had been best of friends in school. Truth was, she was her only friend really back then. Since then she had… well… since then her next friend she had been Joachim Hoch. Ancestors alive, was she anti-social or something?

Whatever the case, Rala was always there for her at her low moments, prodding Hanala along, ignoring the high standard of being a second born sibling. Before she knew it, her bathrobe was wrapped around her naked frame and she was turned around. There Rala was, smiling at her old friend, though she appeared discomforted, probably by the state she was in.

"Rala, it has been quite some time," Hanala returned to her as she raised the scissors to her hair yet again and worked at cutting down and evening the sides. "Do you like the new look? I'm going for demented krogan. Look at me… those fucking Americans…"

Hanala poked her new facial scarring moodily as she let confusion sink into the other woman. She looked unbelievably disgusting as she looked back into the mirror. She barely registered the scissors being pulled from her grip and her friends arms wrapped around her waist.

"Oh, Hanala. Your Mother told me what had happened. I was worried sick when I first heard, and then I remember how damn tough you are," Rala returned as she pulled the scissors from Hanala's hand, her opposite hand running through her hair as she added, "Allow me to help... a little longer in the front, perhaps? I would not want you to look too hideous… how are you feeling?"

Hanala's face wrinkled, visible through the mirror. Rala picked up on it right away. Hanala softly chuckled at just how awkward she had become.

"Right… such a stupid question to ask," she amended, smiling crookedly as she snipped away at Hanala's long bangs. "I think a better question would be why in the Ancestors name would you be so foolish as to involve yourself in a primitive species war? It makes no sense at all. I remember you being smarter in our youth!"

Hanala shrugged, smiling slightly.

"I have obligations to be involved. I have… personal investments."

Rala nodded knowingly.

"Right, that was the other rumour that I keep hearing: That you married one of the Chieftain's sons and brought peace between the two species," Rala spoke dramatically as pushed her hand through Hanala's hair. Slowly she smirked, adding. "Oh wait, that's that vid, _'Forbidden Temptations'_ … you know the vid about the Salarian Dalatrass who marries into a Krogan clan? Though I imagine less headbutting was involved."

" _Chieftain's son_?" Hanala repeated as she pushed her back into Rala. "We aren't talking about a cave dwelling species or krogan cousin. With an exception to his belief in a Deity and a mean streak… and a case of racism… and homophobia… and a hatred for displays of affection, physical, emotional and mental weakness and a love for conflict, Joachim Hoch is a perfectly rational being…"

She trailed off, bouncing on the tips of her toes as she rubbed her neck.

"Oh Keelah, I am dating a miniature krogan..." Hanala admitted, faking dismay. "I swear he's getting better though."

The two women burst into laughter.

"Rala, I told you not to barge in!"

Closing her eyes as Rala finished the trim; Hanala brushed the leftover hair from off her head, she could hear her brother Rael's wife, Veyare scold the younger woman. Reaching for her cover up, Hanala could not help but wonder if Veyare was spending far, far too much time with Mother. She was certainly starting to sound like it.

"It's fine Veyare," Hanala murmured as she went about applying her makeup in an attempt to cover the blotchy flesh. "She's trying to make me look like I wasn't splattered in a ship to ship collision."

Veyare winced and shook her head. She stepped over and brushed her hand through Hanala's drastically shorter hair.

"Oh, Hanala, you look so… adorable," Veyare got out. She paused, before in a smaller voice, she quietly added, "Although I cannot imagine he will like it."

Watching Veyare struggle with not staring at all of her new features given to her by the ground attack fighter. Hanala quietly agreed; Joachim liked women looking like women. A deviation such as this would probably not be too welcomed; probably more so than her scarring. Hanala allowed her fingers to trail the burn scar just under her left ear.

"Your physician feels it is time to get you off the hospital ship and commingle with the rest of the fleet as a part of your rehabilitation," Veyare explained as she stepped closer to Hanala, who had dug into her robes to find her cigarettes. "Mother volunteered to take our children for the day. I suppose this will be a girl's night out… no, you're not allowed to do that anymore!"

Hanala paused, looking at the cigarette in her fingers, then to Veyare's stern expression. Slowly she sighed and handed the box and cigarette to the woman, who crushed both and threw it into the trash receptacle. She rubbed her neck; quitting killing her lungs was harder than she thought it would be.

"Alright then… I'm going to go get dressed," she mused as she pushed herself off the edge of the counter. "Let's get drunk and see where today leads."

Pushing through the two women, Hanala entered her room, closing the door behind her. Ignoring the sudden pain in her gut from particularly nasty shrapnel wound. She pulled off her robes.

Hanala tugged out the drawers and stared at it blankly. All she had was the provided medical jumpsuit provided to patients, and clothing sent up to her by Zorah. It was variety of colour human blouses, slacks and dresses that Lene Langer had bought on her behalf. Her regular fleet wear was back on her Cruiser, the _Bismarck_. Hanala'Jarva vas Bismarck. Joachim use to tease her about being a female variant of the former Chancellor who almost united German singlehandedly, or so what Joachim said, she was utterly entranced by Joachim retelling the Blood and Iron speech.

She flipped through the outfits until she paused on one she had not seen before, a striped black and white cardigan. On it was a piece of paper with beautiful looking alien handwriting. It was by far less messy than Joachim's penmanship; it was a woman by how feminine it looked to her. Quietly she scanned the note with her omni-tool, translating the language into Khellish for her.

 _My best wishes for your full recovery on behalf of my family. Come and visit when you are up to it. My home is always open to you, my dear… Although you will need to explain what you are to the children, last thing I should think you want are pierced eardrums._

 _Heil Hitler, and with love._

 _Lene XO_

As much as she felt uneasy with the apparent adoration of that monster, Hanala still smiled at the thoughtful gift. Pulling off her robe, she pulled on a white undershirt, then the cardigan fumbling with the small buttons. Pulling on panties and dark trousers, she stood up and glanced at her mirror, running her hand through her new hair. She looked like a mutilated pixie from one of those stupid English stories Joachim said his mother made him read. Tinker Belle or some childish garbage Joachim endured from his anglophile mother.

Rubbing her hair self-consciously once again, Hanala stood and started to make her leave, when she paused and noticed something that made her smile albeit for a moment. It was Joachim's officer long coat hanging there on the edge of the chair. It was finally cleaned after the amount of blood she soaked into it. She did not hesitate for a moment to grab it and pull it over her shoulders. If it was long on Joachim, it was oversized on her.

It did not matter. Taking a deep breath of the woollen jacket, she absorbed his scent before she left her bedroom and joined the two women chatting idly about stupid things -like child rearing. Boring talk that Hanala never thought Rala would allow herself to become. A boring as space travel mother; well... Not tonight.

"Fashion statement?" she heard Rala call out to her. Hanala smiled slightly as she flattened out the slight wrinkle in the jacket's arm.

"Do you like it?" Hanala inquired, looking down at the jacket she wore, a coy smile crossing her mouth. "I finally got the blood out of it. A bit long on me, But Ancestors does Joachim ever know just how to wear it when he's in full uniform. Veyare knows what I'm talking about."

Rala and Veyare shared a look.

"My daughter is terrified of him after that screaming match Joachim and Hanala had a few months back, Rael hates him, and Rael never hated _anyone_ since we started seeing each other," Veyare informed the curious Rala, with the slightest of smiles. "Keelah, you should hear him talk about Hanala's human. In a word, Joachim scares the life out of me."

Rala laughed hard at the revelation that someone had actually gotten under Rael'Jarva's image of paragon selflessness and had actually made him furious. She slapped her hand onto Hanala's shoulder. It might have always been Hanala's secret desire to find someone that could drive her elder brother up the wall. Years after childhood, it appeared the wish was a reality.

Patting the jacket, she could feel something metal in the inside pocket. She reached into the jacket and produced a good sized flask; Hanala quirked her lips. She knew what this was, Gerald Langer used one quite often. Unscrewing the top of the flask, Hanala took a careful sniff and nearly melted Rannoch brandy. Why would Joachim have a flask for alcohol he could not drink.

Unless…

Oh this was sweet... Joachim had given her a means to drink just as heavily as he did. Sighing, she lifted the flask to her lips and sipped the warm liquor.

"Firstly, Rael should mind his business, secondly, get to know him. He's a big softy when you break through his barriers… which is admittedly almost impossible if you're not sleeping with him," she said as she tossed the flask to her sister-in-law. "Now have a drink or else I'll issue an order."

Looking at the flask nervously, Veyare took a drink. Today was going to be interesting.

 **...**

* * *

 **…**

When Heinz Heydrich left the Hoch residence last night, he just knew that he was in over his head.

Unlike his Brother, who, had the roles been reversed, would have sally forth into the task like a man possessed, Heinz wasn't willing to do that. Not when so many children's lives were on the line. No. The first thing he did when he got out of Potsdam and onto the Autobahn was to call Halid'Zorah.

Zorah, quite possibly the most understanding man… well... alien that he had ever met went to work. He got in contact with likeminded men. Most notable were his two friends as of late; Hans-Gerd von Rundstedt and Claus von Stauffenberg. They were Wehrmacht men who were in the same age range, had wives and children and good upbringing that didn't involve a top ranking National Socialist in the family. They had been keeping him from going off the deep end.

All three men wanted to do more for the quarians efforts; they were efforts that were left to the Prussian military elite –the old men of the conspiracy. The three of them were untested. As such, Admiral Zorah decided that was time to change. He assigned all three of them to aid Hoch on his transportation for the Jewish children across national borderlines and into Danish hands, whom would then sail them to Sweden.

This was clearly not just a task, but a test. Joachim Hoch needed a good team in the near future. Admiral Zorah was holding tryout to work with the Knight's Cross hero, who, as some in the conspiracy believed, was being groomed into taking out the Führer himself. It was a rumour that Claus von Stauffenberg salivated on. Whatever Hoch was doing, the Count wanted in big time.

Pulling the Opal Blitz truck over to the sidewalk, just behind Joachim Hoch's Mercedes-Benz; Heinz turned to the two officers.

"I have to warn you… Joachim wasn't really… stable when I met him last night…" he informed them. "I doubt it will be better... It might be safe if we keep our pistols with us… though the way he's built; I think they might just make him pissed."

Heydrich chuckled nervously to his Wehrmacht friends. The Leutnant and the Oberst exchanged confused looked, but nonetheless, made sure their pistols were ready. Heinz and Hans-Gerd opened the doors and all three of them climbed out; hitting the pavement as they opened the picket gate to the Hoch residence and walked down the pathway…

So far so good.

At least, he thought it was.

The front door flew up and out came the looming, unshaven Standartenführer Joachim Hoch. His eyes wide as he held an actual MP-43 at his hip, his weapon's barrel aimed directly at the two newcomers, Von Rundstedt and Von Stauffenberg. Both men froze in place.

" _Who the hell are these people?"_ he hissed at Heydrich.

Heydrich went wide eyed; his hands flying up to physically tell the paranoid mess standing there that they had all come in peace.

"Hoch, I-I thought you could use some help," he stated, trying to keep his voice under control. "We're coming with you. It would look better if there are three of us with you."

Hoch pulled back the hammer of the exotic looking rifle.

"And who are us?" he growled. " _You two stay_ _ **right**_ _there_!"

Next to Heydrich, Stauffenberg hit Heinz with his stump.

" _Don't react… just listen to me, Heinz,"_ Claus spoke in barely more than a whisper to him. _"I have seen combat. I know when a soldier has been using a Methamphetamine product. Joachim Hoch is strung out on it right now. Go first, tell him that we're friends but be nice about it. I'll explain the rest."_

Looking from his two friends to the high strung Automatic rifle wielding, two legged, talking high-explosive 8.8 centimetre shell glaring at the three of them like he was going to destroy all three of them right there and then. Heinz swallowed his worry, found some of his Brother's sheer nerve and took a step past them, his hands raised up as a gesture of peace.

"Joachim, these are my friends, Hans-Gerd von Rundstedt and Claus von Stauffenberg," the Obersturmführer introduced to the higher ranking Standartenführer. "They been... _you know_... they been helping me cope with what we are doing. The betrayal we're committing. They came because they want to help you."

Joachim blinked, he lowered his rifle only slightly as he inspected the three of them.

"Heydrich's sensitive brother, Von Rundstedt's bookworm son and a one armed, one eyed, three fingered aristocrat?" Joachim listed off disbelievingly. "Are you _fucking_ kidding me?! I don't want their _**goddamn**_ help!"

"Well you have it, and you're going to accept it," said Claus from just behind Heinz; he stepped forward, not in the slightest bit amused by Hoch's taunting annoyance.

"One man crossing the border in a car with a pack of children; you are dead," he said flatly, stepping past the SS man. "You are getting more than just papers. Rundstedt and I have had papers made up for us by Admiral Wilhelm Canaris. We're officially assigned to the Lebensborn project on a temporary basis. It brings a whole other level of legitimacy."

"Not to mention Admiral Canaris got us in contact with a group of Danes who'll be expecting us outside of Skagen, North Jutland," said Hans-Gerd von Rundstedt suddenly as he joined Stauffenberg's side. "We're not your enemies, Hoch. You did a good thing. We're here to see it through for you."

Rundstedt smiled confidently as the East Prussian offered his hand to the taller North German. Joachim stared at him carefully before taking his hand. The action had Heinz breathing a sigh of relief.

"How do we do this?" Joachim inquired, turning to Heinz. He sighed, exhaustedly as he handed Hans-Gerd the MP-43 to him. Heinz joined the two others with Hoch and nearly winced at how heavy the alcohol was on Joachim's breath.

"We wait until nightfall," Heydrich said to the disarmed meth case. "Can we come in now? We'll make you come coffee; at least sober the booze out of you."

Joachim stepped out of the door war and gestured for them to enter. Rundstedt and Stauffenberg went in right away, but Heydrich hesitated as he looked into Joachim's blood shot eyes.

"Tend to the children," Joachim requested. "I have to go on an errand. I'll be back inside the hour."

Hoch did not wait for confirmation or the query about his destination. He simply left, leaving Heydrich questioning his mental state.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

The Kehlsteinhaus was absolutely stunning this winter. To think what lay ahead in a few short days brought a chill down his Albert Speer's spine.

The 6th Army was dying. Not figuratively, literally dying now. There was no way to liberate what remained of the Army. It left the Heer in a state of depression, The Führer, on the other hand, was in an unstoppable rage which would begin the moment he stepped into the Wolfsschanze, to the moment the meetings concluded. It left the Führer in quite a high strung state.

It was especially troublesome when Von Manstein, in a state of frustration had been egging on his fellow commanders who were not privy to the rebellion. The Führer had made a drastic mistake. He had all but begged Von Manstein to stay after he threatened resignation. Such a display showed that he needed Erich von Manstein. Von Manstein was now aggravating the situation by telling his compatriots that not following the Führer's commands completely to the letter to blame their disobedience on him.

For now he would forget it. He had succeeded in convincing the Führer into coming here. At least for a few days; it would be enough of a window for the quarians to do whatever the hell they were planning on doing here. He would help have the home of his Führer back to a liveable state. It would be a nice little vacation in the Austrian Alps with his wife, Margaret and his children.

Well it would have been nice had it not been for the company they had to bring along. With them was Minister of Propaganda Joseph Goebbels, his lovely wife, Magda as well as their brood. Then there was his fellow conspirator, Ernst Kaltenbrunner, who also was there with his own smaller family. He spent most of the time at the Kehlsteinhaus plastered and moody; muttering about Joachim Hoch when the two of them were alone.

The young SS man was apparently abusing his new authority simply to drive Kaltenbrunner up the wall. Doing things that involved Jewish affairs apparently. Whatever it was, it was enraging the head of the RSHA. To that end, Speer felt quite satisfied to think that someone was using him for deeds against his reputation.

Clutching his squirming son, Ernst, just under a year old, Speer sighed. As much as he wanted to believe what he was doing was not only the right choice, but the only one; He still felt like a traitor. He was selling out everything that he built and helped to foster this past decade. This was not something easily digestible.

It did not help that he was probably other one of the few National Socialist in the conspiracy. It left him wondering about the people he had spent so many years with, people who loved and adored the Führer. Joachim Hoch was certainly young, but he was the first of the conspiracy to understand what they were doing. They were cutting the throats of every relationship developed... so many friendships, so much loyalty.

Hoch might have been a brute, someone who seemed to love the conflict more than he loved the peace, but he wasn't blind. He was ahead of the curve, and only now, standing here in the majestic Kehlsteinhaus. The dull pain in his gut was telling him that in a matter of days.

Small hands wrapped around his pudgy waist. It was Margarete, her face buried into to the top of his spine. Albert smirked crookedly and looked to coo at his youngest son.

"Your Mother seems to think I'm worth groping…. how silly of her," he spoke idly to his boy as though he was an adult.

A sharp laugh and tap on his back forced the Armaments Minister to turn around and look at Margarete's smiling face. She reached up and carefully pulled Ernst from out of his arms and rested him into her breast.

"This place is always so breathtaking," she replied as she turned back to look at the Chalet. "It's such a shame that the Führer does not come here more often."

Nearly reminding his wife that there had been a war going on, Albert looked past his wife and found Minister Goebbels and his wife, Magda coming out of the Chalet, talking to each other. Magda looked up, her stern face contorted into a charming smile as she waved to the Speer's. Although Magda was frozen in place, Joseph didn't he was limping his way over to speak to him.

Albert and Margarete shared a look.

"You go on, spend some time with Magda," he dismissed her, gesturing to the waiting woman.

Margarete groaned underneath her breath.

"Must I?" she complained idly. "I swear she's half in love with you."

Kissing her cheek then placing his hand onto Ernst's head for a moment, he let go and allowed Margarete to retreat past Goebbels, who smiled kindly to her before joining Speer, His hand slapping against his shoulder.

"I have to hand to too you, Speer, this was an excellent suggestion," Goebbels said, removing his cap and resting it at his side. "This is just what the Führer needs; rest and relaxation, away from the taxing demands of controlling all those bumbling blowhards."

Speer inclined his head only slightly, his hands lacing behind his back for a few seconds.

"My thought as well, Minister," Albert agreed with the Propaganda Minister, his words humble as he went for his cigarettes. "With everything that is happening, the Führer is in need of rest and relaxation. With Fraulein Braun's birthday coming, I thought it might be nice for a change of pace."

Goebbels nodded; his good cheer was erased as he looked like he wanted to discuss what he thought the two of them had organized this getaway for.

"What of Bormann, Minister?" he asked, making sure that the two of them were indeed alone. "Shall something be done about him?"

Martin Bormann, the snake in the grass. The past year had seen his ascension to the silent right hand of the Führer; Always in the background with his ear against the door and his whispers in the Führer's ear. Every prominent man in the Reich held hatred for him. Goring, Himmler, so many others as well wanted him destroyed. The problem was that no one trusted one another enough to actually something. It took months before Speer had cultivated trust from the Propaganda Minister to now plot in this manner.

The two of them had more in common than they thought. They were well educated, non-practising Catholics, well-to-do upbringing and large, young families. They were both academics, except he was well versed in planning and Goebbels, a master in knowing the people. Knowing what they wanted, knowing what they needed to hear. Had it not been for what he was doing, working with the quarians, he could have found great respect for him… had it not been for his whore mongering exploits that left poor Magda hysterical.

Most important of all, they both had an understanding that this war could no longer be fought half-hearted on the home front. If the British and the Americans, who were unaffected by the bombings and isolated had enacted a state of total war, than obviously it should policy for Germany as well. Not just exploiting the foreign lands conquered, but the Fatherland as well.

The brutes in the Heer and the arrogant quarians did not value what he was doing. Goebbels was loyal to the Führer. That did not mean he could have his uses. He needed a public face to the total war effort and the second best orator in Germany was Goebbels.

"Ernst Kaltenbrunner will be actually sending Bormann on a diverted course to Berlin," Albert explained to his colleague. "It should buy us some time to speak to him about enacting total war without that secretary whispering in his ear at every moment of privacy he finds."

Goebbels expression broke into a wide smile. He had come to love making friends with the Chief of the RSHA. The man was beyond useful to have at their side; even if the giant privately seething from his forced submission to the quarian intentions.

"Speaking of the good men, Herr Kaltenbrunner, welcome to our little conversation," Goebbels called out. "Bormann has been handled of course?"

Looking over Goebbels shoulder, he could see the uniformed Kaltenbrunner stepping out of the Chalet and moved towards them. He was, as always, in a foul mood. It did not seem to go noticed by the Propaganda Minister.

"Minister Goebbels… Minister Speer," Kaltenbrunner greeted the two of them; looming over the older "Secretary Bormann is out of the picture. I have picked up His mistress and placed her in Gestapo custody on suspicion of treason."

Feeling suddenly nauseated by the words spoken by the brutal faced lawyer. Albert turned away from the Gestapo chief; slicking his thinning hair back as he gripped the railing.

"Will she be tortured?" Speer found himself asking, despite his better judgement. He simply had to know.

Kaltenbrunner shrugged as he inhaled his cigarette.

"Should I care? Should either of you care?" Kaltenbrunner inquired, grinning as though the topic was passé. "She's his favourite whore, it'll keep him occupied. I shall hold her for a few days and then I will release her into Frau Bormann's wife's custody by accident. Having a marriage fall apart will take him out of the picture."

Unbothered by discussing the implied torture of a probably innocent woman, Kaltenbrunner opened his holder and handed it to Goebbels.

"In the meantime, I have found a candidate to serve as the head of the Führer's personal guard for the duration of this gathering," he said as Goebbels eyes nearly glowed at the file he was reading. Kaltenbrunner paused for only a moment before adding, "It is a dated photograph. He is an amputee now. Almost his full left arm is gone."

The lights of delights went out as Goebbels looked up to Kaltenbrunner in disbelief in what he was hearing. He turned to Speer, who shrugged casually. This wasn't news to him. Still, he had to pretend that this was news to him as well. Speer took the file from Goebbels as he scanned the rather intrusive file next.

"You wish to place an amputee in charge of the Führer's personal security?" Goebbels questioned incredulously. "I do not doubt his strength, nor the use I could have with him in the propaganda field, but are you sure that is wise?"

"It's just his arm," Kaltenbrunner excused him. "Besides, the man is a war hero who has served in the SS since he was barely an adult. I have already checked out his background. Speer? What do you think?"

Speer continued to read the file as though he needed a few moments to deliberate as well. After a good, long moment, Albert looked up and met Ernst knowing hard stare. Exhaling, the Minister of Armaments turned back to face Goebbels who was expectantly awaiting an answer from him.

"I think that the role of the head of security is to manage the fifty men stationed in the Chalet and the two thousand man garrison in Berchtesgaden," Albert finally spoke at long last. "This young man has many war stories and tales of valour, and you know the Führer as well as I. He loves his tales of heroics from the young, most experienced of soldiers. What better choice than a genuine hero of the Fatherland?"

Goebbels frowned at what Speer had said. He frowned because it made sense that someone colourful and loyal as Joachim Hoch appeared to be would potentially bring the Führer out of his rage and despair. He would serve as reminder that a few leaders who would defy him were nothing compared to the strength and loyalty of the men who fought in his name.

Pulling the file from Speer's hands, Goebbels handed the file over to Kaltenbrunner.

"Very well..." Goebbels concluded. "I shall pass this along to the Führer himself. Heil Hitler."

Exchanging salutes, Goebbels left, leaving Speer alone with the giant monstrous lawyer. Kaltenbrunner watched as the Minister re-entered the Chalet before he turned back to face Speer, His kind expression turning into a leering stare at Albert. Speer was not a man to be frightened at much, but by the way Ernst was staring at him…

"Speer," Kaltenbrunner said. "May I trouble you for a moment of your time?"

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

It was just about midnight before they reached the very tip of the Danish Corridor, no more than fifty kilometres north of Skagen.

Security had been a near breeze with both the newcomers, Stauffenberg and Rundstedt there. Claus von Stauffenberg in particular had been a smooth talker, providing the border guards his cigarettes and couple bars of rare Belgian chocolate which he had nicked from his wife's personal supply. It was all that was needed to have smooth trip over the relatively lightly guarded border.

Perhaps he had overestimated to troubles with getting across the border. The again, had it not been for the truck Heinz Heydrich had taken from the local Potsdam SS headquarters, it would have been much more difficult to explain why he was shuttling nearly a dozen children around in his Mercedes.

There hadn't been much of an exchange between him and everyone else. Von Stauffenberg and Von Rundstedt were fairly close to Heydrich. They talked while Joachim drove. Heydrich did his best to incorporate the youngest soldier into the conversation, but between his frayed nerves, the drugs he had ingested, and fact that he simply did not want to speak, he stayed silent as he wondered what he was going to say to the Partisans that they were to get in touch with.

At least he had been doing that when two men ran out in front of the truck, rifles raised at him.

Joachim hit the brake, nearly overturning the truck. He brought the vehicle to a dead halt. The Danes standing there had not moved. Joining them was a full squad of men and women rolling out of the woods and into the shining headlights. All of them were armed with a variety of captured German material and English weaponry probably covertly brought into the country.

"Open the door nice and slow, Germans," a woman in a dark parka called out to them in flawed German, a Sten submachine gun raised at them like the others. "Keep your hands raised as soon as you exit the vehicle."

The Heer and SS-in-name-only men looked to one another. Exhaling, Joachim opened the door of the truck and climbed out first. The moment he hit the snow and dirt road, he raised his hands up and slowly walked to the hood of the Opal Blitz. He was soon joined by the others, flanking him.

The two groups remained dead silent for a long while. Deciding for the sake of the children that some sort of dialogue had to start soon, Joachim took one long stride closer to the Danish resistance fighters.

"I am obliged to inform you that the four of us are presently armed with pistols," Joachim called out to the partisans standing before the Germans. "With your permission I would like to reach into my holster and, with two fingers on the handle, place my pistol onto the hood of the car. This will be repeated one by one until we are unarmed... No one has to be killed over this."

The woman, apparently the only one who could speak German, turned back to her compatriots and explained what was happening in Danish. The others spoke to one another in a flurry of hissed whispers. Some of them darting their eyes back to the Germans.

"Very well," said the woman, her voice nearly quavering. "Any sudden movements and I will shoot you! Now… why in the hell did you contact us?!"

Hoch did not reply at first. Carefully he followed his request to the letter. He reached into his holster and careful pulled the Walther out, laying it on the hood of the truck. His hands still raised, he stepped forward. Slowly he lowered his hands to his sides.

"We have come for your assistance," Joachim spoke as Von Rundstedt dropped his pistol next to Hoch's. "We are aware of what you and your countrymen have done to your Jewish population. We would like you to repeat the actions. May I retrieve our cargo for your inspection?"

Again the gathering of partisans went to a frenzy of conversation as the woman, shaking by the inquiry turned back to tell them. Joachim remained dead still, waiting for an answer that wasn't coming fast enough for his liking. Every moment he stood out here, he was risking a fight spilling out, or worse, getting caught.

Finally the conversation died down yet again. The woman turned back and simply nodded in agreement. Hoch returned the gesture and, taking two steps back, turned and walked to the back of the Opal truck. He pushed the sheets aside to reveal the children, huddled for warmth. Hoch searched all of their faces until he stopped and focused Erik and Sara Rauch, both of them fearing his attention.

Joachim climbed into the truck and stopped before Erik; his hands reached out and touched against the girl's shoulder. She yelped as though he had hit her. The sound nearly made Erik fly up to protect his sister from him.

"I need your sister," Joachim half warned, half pleaded to the boy. "Erik, she's your best shot getting help for all you. Let me take her now, just for now."

It was manipulative, but at this point he no longer cared about tiptoeing around these children. Not when they were so close to escaping. Naturally the boy looked at his sister. Inwardly Joachim wondered if she was a mute. He hadn't heard her say a single word throughout their encounter. Finally the boy nodded. Joachim leaned in and pulled the child into his arms, and climbed out of the Opal truck.

Setting her down, Joachim reached out and offered her his hand. It was a gesture that made the girl back up for a moment before she took it. He wrapped he hand tight around hers and carefully led her through the snow and towards the watching SS, Wehrmacht and partisans.

The translator's mouth dropped open. He could her actually gasp from here. This was good to here. Pushing past the officers, he led the child towards the Danes, pausing midway between the Danes and the officers, he paused and let got of the girls hand.

 _"Go along, see the nice lady,"_ He spoke as softly as his voice could produce.

The girl looked up at him blankly, as though she didn't understand that she was being liberated, like it was all still just a cruel prank on his part. Hoch stared at her for a moment before looking up to the woman helplessly. The woman looked close to tears as she took in the unnaturally scrawny appearance of the nearly bald, bleach blonde girl.

The woman slung the Sten gun in her hands around her shoulders and leaned down onto her knees, her hands wide, accepting as she forced herself to smile for the girl.

 _"Come here my love, you're safe now,"_ she called out to the girl. _"I'm going to help you."_

As though she was terrified to leave Hoch, who in her eyes, might harm her if she bolted, Sara took slow, careful steps towards the woman; now biting her lip, from here Joachim could see her shaking. Sara closed the gap and before she knew it, the Dane had wrapped her arms around the child in a tight hug.

Joachim turned away and dug for his cigarettes. Lighting up, he joined the silent Heydrich, Von Rundstedt and Von Stauffenberg. He opened his case and allowed the others to take a cigarette each. They mingled silently as they allowed the partisans to inspect the child.

" _German_."

Exhaling his cigarette, Joachim turned back to the call. The woman was looking at him very carefully.

"Just how many more are there?" The woman inquired, using her shoulder to wipe her eyes.

The tension in his chest unleashed.

"Ten in total," Hoch spoke at a rapid fired pace, his hand gesturing back to the truck. "I pulled them out of a camp… There are so many… far too many. I need your help… Please. You can even have the truck; we'll walk back to civilization. Here. I brought money," he said as he dug into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He tossed to the woman's feet as he added. "I have three thousand Reichsmarks for the expenses. If it's not enough…"

Hoch trailed off and glanced to his three other companions, all of them looking at him as though he was something to be pitied. Not that he could blame them, he was chattering like he was close to losing it completely. Swallowing the knot building in his throat, Hoch turned back to the partisans, all of them staring at him curiously.

"I just need your help," he repeated, his voice low and back under his control.

Looking at the girl in her arms, then to the pleas SS Standartenführer, the woman looked back to her compatriots. This time there was no debate, no flurry of angry Danish spat around at one another. It was silent agreement. Still it did not ease his worry. Not yet anyway.

The woman handed her Sten to a man next her, and Sarah was handed to another woman, the partisan fighter, leaned down to collect his wallet and made her way to Hoch. She stopped only a metre from her enemy. Slowly she nodded and gestured to the truck.

Hoch could not help it he smiled for the first in what felt like ever.

"It's been a while since I've seen a German smile," the Dane said, handing Joachim back his wallet. "Let's bring them out. Keep the truck; give the money to the children. They'll need it more than either of us."

Joachim could only nod gratefully.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Not a word was spoken on the way back from the drop off. The others knew better than to stimulate a conversation out of Joachim after what had happened.

It had been a success. They had saved these children… so why did it leave him so empty? Why did he feel even worse than his initial reaction to seeing Buchenwald for the first time? Every moment they drove to the rallying point where they would meet up with Admiral Zorah, it left him feeling worse and worse. He was reaching to the point of Hyperventilation when Heydrich turned off the main road and down a dirt path where the omni-tool on his arm was pointing to.

He did not understand it. He had done right. But he wanted nothing to do with the event of yesterday.

Taking the bottle of schnapps, brought by Claus von Stauffenberg from Hans-Gerd von Rundstedt, he took a heavy drink. He leaned back into his seat, scratching his patchy five o'clock shadow.

"Look," Heinz called out, pointing in front of them. Sure enough, the quarian shuttle craft had flew soundlessly a few metres over their head. The flying vehicle slowed down and actually paused in midair, before it made its final descent, landing onto the surface of the Danish soil.

Shaking his head in endless wonder, Heinz Heydrich pulled the truck over about fifty metres from the spacecraft, whose doors were sliding open. Standing there by himself was the quarian Admiral, wearing what he assumed to be quarian military uniform, a slick, one piece with chest armour of some sort. In his hand dangled his futuristic pistol, which he tucked away quickly.

The Opal Blitz doors opened and out climbed the two Wehrmacht Officers and their SS student. They moved swiftly through the snow to greet the quarian Admiral with salutes and handshakes… as though they served him. It was disgusting display to Joachim as he pushed himself over to the Driver's seat.

He paid no attention to Halid turning his attention to Joachim. A slight frown on his face appeared as he went to go join the Joachim, who was taking another drink as he lit up a cigarette.

"Hoch… Joachim?"

He paid no attention to voice belonging to Admiral Halid'Zorah, pushing through the snow to join the man sitting on the driver's seat still. Joachim took a drag of his cigarette, expelling smoke just in time to hit the Admiral who meddled in all of his affairs for the past year. To his credit, the non-smoker Zorah did not cough. He simply stood there, looking up to Hoch with a strange glint in his expression.

Hoch had seen it before. It was an expression Gerald Langer wore whenever he did something that was important to the man. It was pride.

"Joachim I am so incredibly proud of you," Halid breathed, confirming his suspicions. To Joachim, it sounded like he was some sort of son to him, or perhaps an older brother would be more accurate. "I can honestly say I had not thought you would do something like this. When Hanala and her family find out about this-"

Joachim snapped back to attention at the name of his wounded love. His eyes narrowed at the quarian as he slid out of the truck and landed before the Admiral, his head tilted downwards to look at the shorter man.

"No. Hanala doesn't get to know what happened here," he growled lowly to Zorah, surprising him. He turned to Heydrich, Rundstedt and Stauffenberg, adding, "Nobody gets to know. What happened here tonight, this did not happen... This never happened at all."

His words froze the three other humans and the quarian. They could not believe what Joachim was saying. Shaking his head, he pushed past Zorah, killing his cigarette and flicking it off into a snow bank. A hand reached out and took hold of his shoulder.

It was Zorah. Hoch nearly slapped the man's hand off him. Why was he pushing this? He had already said all he needed on the matter. He wanted no credit; he wanted no one to know about this. Was that such a difficult request? Was that so hard to believe?

"You saved ten children," Halid repeated, his voice trying to convey the importance of what the man had done almost singlehandedly. "You did not even have to save the two you went for, but you did and you took all that you could take. It's no small feat, Joachim. You did great good in a place of horrifying evil... I hate to use the word evil because it's such a blanket judgement. But there are no other words to describe such a place. You did something good in the face of great evi-"

Before Zorah knew it, Joachim had rounded back and shoved the quarian so hard that he hit the snow covered Earth.

 _ **"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"**_ Hoch violently shrieked at the quarian.

Admiral Zorah, to his credit, simply stood up with the aid of Stauffenberg, who leaned inwards to whisper something to the quarian that made his eyes widen. Halid turned back to the fuming Hoch, no longer willing to interject.

"Okay…I saved ten children; I left behind _**HUNDREDS**_. That's not even including the rest of the camp, or any of the other camps across this _**GODFORSAKEN CONTINENT!**_ " Joachim shot back to the quarian, his voice growing higher and higher. "One kindness doesn't erase what is happening. It doesn't make all of this better; it makes it all worse –Knowing how pitiful this all was compared to the whole picture. Save ten children, allow hundreds of thousands to suffer and die?"

Steaming, methamphetamine laced rage overwhelmed his senses. He shoved himself through the snow and, with all his might, slammed his machine fist into the door of the Opal. The door dent inwards as complete and utter pain shot through his body. Joachim turned right around, sliding down the side of the truck and into the kicked up snow.

Needlessly nursing his machine hand in the snow as though the shock to his system had been a natural one, Joachim wiped his eyes.

"Ignorance was _fucking_ bliss; I should have just forgotten this whole awful idea, to think that I thought I could really make a difference," he muttered, staring blankly at his lap. "Goddamn my curiosity… Goddamn that Rabbi. I should have ignored their existence. A good deed for a dead Jew… who shot me no less! What the hell was I thinking?!"

Joachim shook his head; he turned his eyes back up to the snow dusted quarian admiral.

"I do not want his spoken about, Admiral, the rest of you. I do not want this used as some sort of personal advancement garbage," he said, more to himself then the others. "I don't want my detractors to have any more assumptions, that I did it for self-interest. This isn't open for debate. You mention it, and I'll refute it."

Again he shook his head, tugging off his peaked cap.

"I didn't do enough… that's all I need to know."

Of all the people to step forward, Joachim had not expected the mostly silently Hans-Gerd von Rundstedt to be it.

"You saved ten lives. Ten may seem like a low number now. But think about how many children those ten will have because you stepped in," he said softly, empathetically. "Now think fifty, sixty, one hundred years from now. You have given entire generations a chance to live!"

Joachim did not reply.

"It did make a difference and ultimately, people will know it whatever the case. No matter what secrecy you might want from us," Von Rundstedt pressed his point to the higher ranking SS man. "The Danes know it, the guards you stole the children from will know it, assuming they aren't hung and most importantly, the children know it. What is stopping them ten, fifteen years down the line from approaching you?"

Next to Gerd von Rundstedt's son, Halid'Zorah nodded in concurrence with the academic Wehrmacht officer.

"Assuming you two are together still, how do you explain it to Hanala when a group of adults show up on your doorsteps, begging to see you? Crying or simply saying thank you?" Zorah inquired as Hoch pulled himself up from the ground. "What if you're not home and Hanala is there? How do you explain it to your partner that you've been hiding a damn important detail about you for a decade, two decades?"

Joachim did not want to think about that. Hanala would likely give him shit, but she did not have the right to know about all of his business, even if she thought she might. His affairs were his, not hers. As such, he felt no obligation to tell her. Not until the other party was ready to talk.

"If they want to acknowledge what happened tonight when they are older, that's their prerogative," Joachim said, his voice tired and dulled. "I am not going to use it for my own means. This remains silent… So _please_ , do me this last favour and oblige me this."

The four men in front of him looked to one another. No words were spoken as they silently deliberated their response. The first one to turn back to him was the Count.

"I won't tell a soul. Assuming we're alive when this secrecy unravels, at least you'll have witnesses. It won't just be some SS man trying to show off his innocence," Von Stauffenberg spoke first.

"We'll do this your way. Those children escaped by a miracle," said Von Rundstedt second.

Joachim turned his gaze to Heydrich, who seemed upset that this was apparently about to be sworn to secrecy. After a good, long moment, Heinz sighed and nodded his head.

"Yeah…" He finally confirmed, with a slight smile and a shake of his head, he added. "Though, if I might say, I think you're going to make a good Father someday."

Joachim arched his eyebrow.

"Never had a Father…" He admitted aloud to them. Looking wryly to Heydrich, he added. "I'll be lousy at it. End up with children as fucked in the head as I."

Strangely enough, Heinz Heydrich started to laugh, despite the blatant confession. He shook his head as he stepped forward, his hand falling onto Joachim's shoulder.

"Joachim, My Father was a good, honest, decent man..." Heinz informed Joachim, still smiling, almost nostalgically. He was a disciplinarian, but he was reasonable, and God knows the sort of hell Reinhard and I put Mother and him through... As strict as he was, he loved us all and never once let us forget it."

Heinz's smile faltered as he pulled his hand away from the younger man.

"If my Father, who was good, honest, decent and loving could produce the likes of my Brother, then that should tell you that being a good Father doesn't determine your child's fate," he informed the rootless soldier. "It's the action the child chooses that shape their path. All you can do is give them a good start… and from what I saw these past few days, I know you can do that."

Joachim looked at the youngest Heydrich brother most curiously. It seemed to have made sense to him. Unwilling to voice anything to Heydrich, he simply inclined his head and turned his attention back Zorah, who stood there, his arms crossed as he inspected the Standartenführer.

"Very well, Joachim, I will follow your request…" Zorah finally conceded to him at long last, although he looked less than pleased about the oath to silence.

Halid paused as he activated his Omni-tool. Behind him, the drop ship suddenly hummed to life, the vessel floated up several feet as the landing gears retracted.

"We can take you up to the fleet now if you like," Halid informed Joachim. "It is nearly time for you to have that arm removed."

Joachim rubbed his left arm unconsciously. He was very uncomfortable with the prospects of being left with only one arm. He had never spent any time at all as a real amputee. The moment he lost it, he was out cold, the moment he woke up, he had a replacement.

Before he knew it, Claus von Stauffenberg closed the gap between them; his three finger hand reached up and rolled Joachim's tunic just enough to reveal the dark pattern black and silver gleaming in the moonlight. Stauffenberg's eyes widened, as did the others. He rounded back to Admiral Zorah, looking close to blowing his top.

"And I didn't get one of these yet, _why_?" he demanded to know, voice high and furious that he did not have access to this life changing technology yet.

Zorah could only shrug as he glacned to Hoch.

"You were not sleeping with a quarian Admiral's daughter at the time," was Zorah's mildly amused explanation; He turned to Joachim, adding. "She's an Admiral herself as well now."

The three older humans rounded back to Joachim and stared at him wide eyed. Joachim paid no attention to them. Hanala was now an Admiral? Hanala had been in contact with him, but she was very vague; probably caused by injuries, the drugs and plain well forgetting to tell him.

Hanala'Jarva… Admiral Hanala'Jarva vas Bismarck. Or perhaps it would be one day Admiral Hanala'Hoch vas Bismarck, or would it be Hanala Hoch vas Bismarck.

Good God. He was nearly giddy for her. Hoch shook his head at the far away plans and turned back to Zorah.

"Yeah… I knew it was coming, but she did not tell me much," he admitted to the seriously impressed men before turning back to Halid, adding. "Not just yet, Zorah. I want to go to Vienna before I head there. First I need to contact Kaltenbrunner…"

Zorah nodded, gesturing back to the ship. Without any further words, Joachim followed the Admiral back to the drop ship, leaving his new friends to their own. He turned back and waved his hand awkwardly. They waved back… Well Von Rundstedt and Heydrich did at least, Von Stauffenberg looked somewhat pissed still.

New friends… how strange it was to make them in such terrible circumstances.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: Clean up, removed the Hoch using the Gestapo to arrest the people who sold out the Ruach's. Perhaps I'll do something alternative; perhaps I'll just let an evil act get away.**

 **Next chapter is short, I'll get it out today.**


	6. Lene and Joachim

**Chapter Six: Lene and Joachim - January 28th, 1943**

 **…**

"You will take the children straight to school. I expect there to be no deviation, the children are not allowed any visits to the sweet shops."

"Yes, Frau Langer."

"Bring back Geli as soon as she is tired. I will not abide her being too tired. The Doctors say her lungs are not quite fully developed for her age. I would prefer her not to have an asthmatic attack."

"Yes, Frau Langer."

Leaning down to kiss each of her children's cheek one by one, Lene Langer stood back up and allowed Olga, the plump, middle-aged Austrian nanny they had hired to go about her work. Watching them leave, Lene sighed and took a seat at the kitchen table, lifting her spoon and dipping it into the cut grapefruit.

Idly she glanced up to Helena, standing over the sink, she was scrapping out a pan she had used to make sweetbread with. Slowly an awful look crossed her face.

"So when are you and Heinrich going to get around to providing your Father and I with grandchildren?" Lene inquired with as much casualness as she could produce on the subject.

Helena froze her work and ducked her head as she attempted to hide the blush on her pale face. She was saved an answer when suddenly something rather unexpected came from outside.

 _ **"UNCLE JOACHIM!"**_

Lene froze at the cry emitting from Geli and exchanged stares with Helena. She ceased her pan scouring and dried her hands.

"He's home?" Helena spoke first.

Lene did not reply as she instead nearly bolted out of the kitchen Lene opened the front door for her daughter. As soon as they stepped out of the house and into the chilly morning, they realized how wrong all of what before them seemed.

There sitting on the steps to the walkway sat Joachim, his back turned to the door, his head lowered as it wobbled back and forth. In his lap sat Geli and was surrounded by the little ones.

He did not speak; he did not show any of his usual affections as the group of children spoke to him excitedly. He just sat there as though everyone were ghosts.

Lene looked to Olga, her eyes telling the nanny to break this up and go about her job. Olga nodded and gathered Geli off the still Joachim. There was a single, shrill note of complaint from the youngest child, but they all complied and together, the Nanny took the Langer brood off to school.

She dared not speak just yet. Lene turned back to Helena and, like Olga before her, dismissed her as well. Casting one worried look to the man she was being set to marry, Helena left as well, leaving Lene alone with the distant soldier. For the first time she acknowledged the bottle of liquor resting next to him. He scrapped it up and took a long drink before he released the bottle, setting it back down next to him.

Quietly Lene stepped forward, ignoring the cold as she stepped out into the icy stairs. She leaned down and took the bottle of liquor from him. Tasting the contents herself, it had been a bottle of scotch whiskey. Lene tipped the bottle over the side of the stairs, emptying the contents into the snow covered dahlia bulbs she planted in the summer.

Still Joachim did not notice her. The lack of his reaction made Lene frown even more than she was doing. She took a careful step forward and rested her hand onto the back of his neck. Her finger pushed into his cold skin in slow circles.

That finally did it. Joachim craned his neck stare at Lene looking down on him. Lene's stomach dropped as she took in the sight of Joachim Hoch. He looked even worse than when Gerald brought him home after his extended stay with the Gestapo. Heavily intoxicated, he looked like he was close to spilling tears; an act that she had never once seen from him before from him.

He stood up, making Lene have to turn her head up to keep herself locked into his puffy bloodshot eyes. Before she knew it, Joachim reached out and wrapped his arms right around her, his head fell and buried into her shoulder. He remained silent as his giant form remained wrapped around the shorter woman.

" _Joachim how long have you been out here? You're freezing!"_ Lene whispered into his ear as her fingers through his painfully short hair.

Still he did not answer, his only response came in the form of clutching Lene tighter into his arms. Lene still stunned, she managed to organize enough of her sense to pull her hand up to press against Joachim's cheek, caressing through the course facial hair that looked so unnatural to the woman.

"Joachim… Joachim, my love, what has happened?" she breathed once more to him. Please tell me… I beg of you."

Noticing her neighbour, Frau Erma Goetchl walking her children to school, Lene went red in the face as the woman stared at the scene, clearly misinterpreting what this was and was only too happy to tell what she was seeing to her fellow hens. She glared hatefully at the woman before managing to slip out of Joachim tight grip. She wrapped her hands around his waist and smiled up at him.

What he needed was a few hours of rest. The war must have taken a toll on him. Yes, that must have been it. She always thought that under the barriers set up by him and his training, Joachim was a sensitive young man; more so than Gerald at least.

"Come along… no more drinking, no more smoking," she said as she noticed Joachim looking for his bottle. "Let's just get you changed out of the uniform, lay you down for a nap. When you wake up, I'll make you lunch… does that sound nice?"

Joachim did not acknowledge her words, but he did follow her inside of the home.

For the moment, Lene would consider it a victory.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _"I've checked in with Captain Rael'Jarva. Hanala is nursing a hangover according to his wife... It isn't her… Heinrich is perfectly safe by the tracker chip implanted in him when he was wounded. Even after what happened in Kiel, Joachim wasn't like this. Maybe it finally got to him."_

Taking a seat on the floor of the kitchen, Lene rubbed the bridge of her nose as she listened to her husband carefully. Hanala was fine, Heinrich was fine, so what was this then? Why had Joachim shown up on their doorstep so intoxicated and had so far not whispered so much as a single word to her?

No, all he seemed to want to do was to stay in her presence, like he was lost and confused. It was simply starting to scare her now. It was not that she did not want his company; it was how clingy Joachim was. That and she had no idea how to ease this pain she was seeing in him.

"Well, I don't know what else is doing this," Lene whispered back to Gerald. "He's been here for three hours; he hasn't said a single word. I only just got free from him. I had to tell him I needed to pee."

There was an audible groan on the other end of the line.

 _"I did not need to know that,"_ Gerald scolded her. Pausing, it sounded like he was rustling through his notebooks before he added. _"I can cancel my appointments for the rest of the day if I am needed… I can get him back onto his feet."_

"No, you stay right there," Lene snapped somewhat meaner than she had intended. "I know you Gerald Langer. You'll get him drinking again and shout at him until you think he's better. Today I'm taking care of him my way, which involves sobering him up and not forcing him into a conversation... If he wants to remain silent, I shall afford him it."

There was a lapse in conversation. Lene stood up, taking the line to the corner so that she could peer around it. There laid Joachim, out of his uniform and back in civilian wear with Helena's assistance. Helena was sitting next to the couch as Joachim laid there. He looked almost curled up.

 _"Alright then,"_ Gerald adhered to her. _"Probably for the best, Kaltenbrunner is arriving in Vienna today. He needs to meet with Joachim soon about his latest assignment."_

Lene's eyes widened. She pulled herself back behind her cover. No way in _hell_ was that going to happen.

"No Gerald, I do not want that _bastard_ anywhere near my home or Joachim. Not today at the very least," Lene stated flatly. "Joachim is ill and he doesn't need that tormenting… _pig_ lurking about. Are we clear?"

 _"Yes wife,"_ Gerald said dully, his tone emitting almost a display of answering to a superior officer. _"I'll be home late… Oh… that reminds me, could you take Joachim to the Vienna site by eleven in the evening? The quarians are picking him up. The Führer has chosen Joachim as company on a visit to the Kehlsteinhaus. He has to have his machine arm removed."_

Lene winced at the news. As honoured as she may have felt that Joachim would be soon in the company of the Führer himself, the thought of Joachim having to go there without an arm seemed so frightfully awful for him.

"Poor thing…" she whispered. "I'll do as you ask."

Goodbyes exchanged between husband and wife, Lene hung up. Biting her lip, she grabbed the shopping list from off of the ice box and, finding whatever courage she had left, she stepped out to join her daughter and son in all but blood.

The moment she entered the room, Helena ended her encouraging whispers to the intoxicated Joachim and turned to look at her Mother impertinently. As much as Helena wanted to make sure that Joachim was okay, she needed to know that her husband was fine.

"Heinrich is perfectly safe," Lene reassured her nervous eldest child. "Why don't you go hang his uniform for drying and then head to the shops and fetch a few errands for me?"

Casting her eyes to Joachim for a long moment, Helena nodded, leaning inwards to press her lips against the top of Joachim's scalp. She pulled back, took the grocery list and left the room wordlessly, leaving Lene and Joachim alone once again.

Joachim looked up to her carefully. He pulled himself back up to allow Lene to sit, which she did. She pulled him back down, resting his head against her lap. Wordlessly, she pushed her hands through his short hair in slow circles in an attempt put the tense man into a state of relaxation. Something Lene doubted he had been in since he was jailed.

She paused as soon as she felt something off. There was a strange bumpiness to his scalp. Lene leaned forward, pushing the hair aside just enough to see that Joachim had scar tissue buried away on the top of his head. From what Lene could dare not bring herself to venture a guess. All she knew for certain was that who was at fault for this.

"Hanala wasn't the only one terrified by your stay in the hands of the Gestapo," she breathed as she moved her hands away from the damage. "I cried for days until I could not cry any longer. I knew you would get out of it though."

She paused.

"I just did not think you would come back a different person… how stupid of me."

Joachim did not reply. All he could do was close his eyes.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _"Are you sure this is wise?"_

 _Joining her husband out of the car, she stepped to his side, her hands reaching up to straighten out his tie Gerald looked so peculiar in his civilian clothing. The Job had left him more often than not in his handsome looking black uniform. She did not mind it in all honesty; it made him look a decade younger._

 _Stifling a laugh as Lene felt her unborn child shift in her womb, she turned away and winced. Whoever was in there was going to be a troublemaker. Gerald not blind to this reaction stepped closer, his hand rested on her stomach in an attempt to calm his second child._

 _"We have a youth in our custody that's not our own," he gently informed her as he wrapped his arms around her. "He is too old for adoption, nor is he an orphan we can take in. Emancipation of a minor requires parental consent or a Judges verdict. I think this woman would not like to risk facing a court over the matter. You saw the abuse he went through, Lene, you saw it even before I. Who's to say it was just his Father?"_

 _Lene blanched as Gerald voiced thoughts and theories that Lene could have never dreamed of by herself. A mother beating her child into the state that Joachim was in. The very concept was disgusting. If that had been the case, if it had been this woman and not the dead man that Joachim called Father, then Marta would be in a world of hurt._

 _"Emancipation gives him a chance to choose us at his own will without the worry of her coming back in a year claiming we kidnapped him," Gerald once again spoke reasonably as ever. "Heydrich and Himmler are both serious when they say they do not want trouble amongst the ranks of the SS. Well I don't intend on causing much."_

 _Sighing, Lene accepted his words with a slight nod. It earned her a kiss on the cheek as the Gerald moved past her and up to the door. He knocked taking a step back to join his wife. To give the impression that he was only here on private business._

 _It took several minutes before the door opened. There standing in front of them was a woman._

 _"Hello?" the woman spoke, quietly, her head tilted slightly._

 _Lene wasn't expecting this. From what little Joachim had told Gerald and her about his mother, Lene had expected a shrew of a woman, maybe a stereotypical overweight type or perhaps some submissive shell. What Lene hadn't expected was for this woman to be a tall, shapely, curly haired brunette. Dark eyed, with a projection of almost arrogance in her humble words. Like the display of nervousness was only a put on._

 _Needless to say, Gerald just about turned into a drooling mess right in front of his five month pregnant wife._

 _"Ah… Frau Hoch? My name is Gerald Langer. Oh… this is my wife, Lene..." Gerald got out, mentioning Lene as almost an afterthought, his hand outstretched to her. "I was hoping that I… well… we could have a moment of your time."_

 _Oh… Gerald was so dead._

 _Nodding to Gerald, Marta Hoch did not acknowledge Lene in the slightest as she took his hand, she did not even speak. She simply stepped out of the doorway and moved back into the house. Gerald narrowed his eyes and after casting his expression of confusion over to his wife, he stepped into the home, Lene not far behind him._

 _The two of them entered the lounge. The first thing Lene had noticed were the vast amounts of picture frames scattered about the room. So many faces of who Lene assumed had been her family. The queerest thing about it was that there appeared to have been no pictures of a young Joachim. No baby pictures, no childhood poses, no school portraits. It was as though he had spent his first sixteen years invisible. Marta didn't seem like a poor woman by any means. She appeared to have been wealthy sometime before the end of the Great War._

 _Lene frowned, she was about to turn to face Marta and interrogate her about it, when she took in the expression of warning offered by her silent husband. Lene had to control her fragile temper. At least until Gerald had finished with the woman._

 _"What is this about?" Marta murmured as she took a seat on the edge of her couch, a drink in her hand._

 _Lene curled her lips as she started to seriously judge this woman; a drinker no less. No doubt she passed it along to Joachim. She would have to make sure Joachim remained temperate, or at the very least responsible. Few men could drink and be mostly unaffected like Gerald._

 _Clearing his throat, Gerald stepped forward and took a seat on the other side of the couch. He smiled to the woman with that silly grin he got when he was nervous around pretty women whom he just met; No Lene wasn't jealous of this thin, ghostlike brunette woman sitting there like a high class French or an Italian whore._

 _"Frau Hoch, I am a Sturmbannführer in the SS. I come to you with a matter I think we need to discuss: Your son, Joachim Hoch," Gerald managed to get out without sounding like a total idiot. "I met him in Munich just over two weeks ago. He saved my life by eliminating a communist. Since then he has moved into my home. It seemed the least I could do."_

 _Marta remained silent as she continued to drink. There was no acknowledgement to whether or not she had heard him._

 _"Your son has not spoken much about you, but he is ideal age for training to serve the Fatherland," Gerald pressed on, not seemingly noticing how cool the woman was acting. "I come here asking your permission on his behalf. I have not coerced him or forced my ideas onto him. Joachim has shown great interest in the cause. He did however find himself unwilling to face you for permission, thus why I am here. In order to begin his education so you must sign these papers."_

 _Downing the last of her drink, Marta set the glass down and finally looked into Gerald's eyes. She turned away to look at the papers in his hands soon after. She leaned forward and took them from him._

 _"Do you have a pen?" she quietly requested._

 _Any reservation on Lene's part for taking in Joachim had vanished the moment she heard those five words uttered by his Mother. There was no fight, no protest. Not even a pause to consider what was happening. She was signing her child over in a heartbeat or a question. Where were her motherly instincts? Where was her basic humanity even? Lene may not have liked her, but she thought that the woman and her would at least share a common belief in protecting their children._

 _Handing his fountain pen over to the widow Hoch, even Gerald looked stunned by the lack of concern._

 _"I… I was expecting a fight…" Gerald admitted, giving off a nervous little laugh._

 _Signing the documents without so much as a hesitation, Marta handed the pen and the papers back to Gerald. How quickly she acted disgusted Lene to the core._

 _"Well you will not get one, Herr Langer," Marta returned, her words unemotional as she stared into Gerald's eyes, not blinking. "My son made his decision… eliminating a Communist threat. I know how you National Socialists love your euphuisms, but let's speak straight. He's a killer... So if you want him… that is fine by me."_

 _Lene was close to hyperventilating. How could she be so callous with a child? How could she be so fine with giving her child to someone she clearly hated. Was this woman retarded? Was she that terrible a mother?_

 _Gerald cleared his throat as he filed the papers away in his briefcase._

 _"I-uh I have to make a phone call..." Gerald muttered as he stood from his seat. "I saw a phone box outside."_

 _Marta nodded and turned away. Gerald looked at her briefly before standing up and moving just past Lene, shooting his wife a significant look as he passed her by. The documents signed, Lene was now free to do as she pleased with the distant woman. Oh… Lene knew exactly where to start._

 _Before Marta knew it, Lene wandered over. Rearing her hand right back, she slapped the woman right across her cheek with all the might the pregnant woman had possessed in her. Marta did not make a sound. Like such a hit was passé._

 _Judging from what Joachim recollected to her, her dead husband treated her like a punching bag. This was next to nothing in comparison._

 _"You are quite possibly the most vile, pitiful excuse for a Mother that I have ever had the displeasure of meeting," she hissed down at the woman._

 _Marta glared back at Lene._

 _"And you're so much better?" Marta challenged her, gone was her quiet humbleness. "Teaching your children about how blood is more important than character? Teaching them to hate people different then you? Teaching them that the only future for Germany is war against everyone who has ever wronged us? I might be a realist for knowing that my son is a lost cause, but at least I'm not a death worshiping National Socialist mother."_

 _Lene's rage and hatred for this woman grew exponentially. It was now bubbling in the pit of her stomach. It was further agitated by another round of movement inside of her. She wanted to tear out hair, she wanted to bite and scrape this woman until it hurt. Instead she swallowed her rage and took a deep exhalation._

 _"I freely admit my love for our Führer," Lene spoke calmly as she cinched her tender hand. "But, before the Führer, before all things comes my child… soon my children; and now that will include your child as well."_

 _Lene looked the woman over then snorted very unladylike, something she did not have a problem being since she hit Marta._

 _Rubbing her cheek, Marta looked away to grab the bottle off the table in front of her._

 _"I had three sons before Joachim, Frau Langer," Marta spoke quietly as she poured herself another drink. "I loved them all with every fibre of my being. They died in the war."_

 _Pausing to sip as Lene herself digested what Marta informed her. The older widow swallowed her drink and added, "If even one of them survived, I would not have had Joachim. I would have been content with becoming a grandmother instead."_

 _Lene ignored any and all sympathy she felt for Marta Hoch for such loss. She was now painfully aware that this lounge wasn't just a place for nostalgia. This place was a vigil to the dead of Marta life._

 _"Yes, Frau Langer, Joachim was born out of circumstances..." Marta pressed on as she set her glass down. "But, if I were to go back in time and lose my sons all over again, I would not have had him. Nonexistence would be preferable to the path he is following."_

 _Lene widened her eyes before she knew it; she had emitted a high pitched shriek at the top of her lungs. She was about to launch herself at the woman in front of her, had it not been for Gerald appearing out of thing air and pulling Lene off the seat and into his arms._

 _"No, Lene," he barked a warning at his wife. "Let's just go home now. Beating her will cause more trouble than we need."_

 _As rational as her husband might have been, between her hormone build up and her genuine rage and disgust for Marta Hoch, Lene refused to comply. Again she tried to yank herself clean from Gerald grip unsuccessfully. She watched as Mata stood from her own seat. Her eyes blank as she stared at the Mother._

 _"Did you hit him?" Lene growled at the woman._

 _Gerald dropped his guard for a moment. It was enough time for Lene to wrench herself free of her husband's restraint. She stumbled forward, one hand clutching her stomach as she glare hatefully into Marta's blank, tired eyes._

 _Marta did not answer, her blank stare now pissing Lene off even further._

 _"You heard me you daft, treacherous bitch!" she screeched as Gerald placed his hand onto her shoulder. "The scars he has on him._ _ **DID YOU HIT HIM?!**_ _"_

 _The house was dead silent as the question hung in the air._

 _Slowly, Marta shook her head._

 _Lene laughed with no humour in her inflection, she reared her head back and spat with all of her might at the feet of Joachim's supposed Mother._

 _"I don't believe you, you… you cowardly, weak willed whore!" Lene hissed once more. Before she could stop it, Gerald once again took hold of her and led her out of the living room and out of the house completely. Her feet were dragging as she spat out all sorts of vile words she had never used before. Gerald ended up having to lift Lene right off the ground in order to keep her from fighting._

 _Closing the door behind them, Gerald allowed Lene to escape his grip. She stumbled in place, beyond furious. She was shaking to her very core as she seethed with insurmountable rage and disgust. Lene wanted nothing better than to rip up the contract about Joachim's emancipation and then call the police about this terrible human being. This woman should be in jail, or a mental hospital. She should have been sterilized just in case. Women such as her had no business bringing up children!_

 _It all made sense why Joachim left, why he came to her in such a shabby state. He saw through her and knew she was poison; Plain and simple._

 _"Gerald, Joachim is never to see her under any circumstances!" Lene fumed as she marched down the front steps to the car._

 _Behind her, all Gerald could do was laugh, amused at this new side of his wife._

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Pulling herself from out of her trance, Lene finished the last crochet stitching and set the needles down onto the side table next to the couch. Unfastening her work she took a careful look at the grey and black scarf she had finally found the time to finish.

Still on her lap, Joachim was snoring. She checked the time. It was nine. It was just about time to get him moving for his visit to the quarian fleet. He had to have his machine arm removed… what trauma that must have been for the poor thing. She pushed her hands through his hair, once more tracing the new scars in his scalp.

Lene leaned forward, her lips pressed to the top of Joachim head. The simple movement made him twitch and open his eyes wide open. He rolled over to look up into Lene's smiling expression.

"Look…" she said as she gestured to the scarf. "You sat me down long enough to finish this... for your belated Birthday."

Blinking, Joachim gingerly raised his hands to take her crochet work scarf and carefully examined it. For the first time all day, a ghost of a smile splashed across Joachim's face. Biting his lip, he wrapped the Scarf right around his bayonet scarred neck.

Lene could not help it; she smiled even wider at how cute nice it looked. In conjunction with his uniform it would work very well.

Just as Joachim was about to roll his head back over to go back to sleep, Lene stopped him, her hand rested onto his cheek, making the man continue to look up at her. Biting her lip she needed to say something. So she would simply do it.

"I know what Gerald said to you," Lene finally confessed, forcing a quiver to retreat from her voice. "I know that he told you that he puts us before you. The night he brought you home, he told me this. He felt terrible, but not sorry for it."

Lene went silent as Joachim absorbed what she was saying. He was unblinking as he looked up at her with wide eyes. Taking an exhale, she allowed her fingers to graze against the grooves of his facial scarring, the cause of all his suffering as of late.

"I suppose that is the way fathers and husbands act," she pressed on, swallowing the lump out of her throat. "They prioritize for practicalities sake. He loves you like a son, but chose instead to protect us by admitting the truth about your past. You have to understand that he believed you could protect yourself."

Lene shook her head.

"Sometimes he forgets that being a soldier and being so strong in so many ways doesn't make you immune to breakdowns..."

Wiping her eyes as they begun to water up from the sheer amount of guilt she felt for not doing something, anything before he was grabbed by those Gestapo pigs. Lene bowed her head.

"I cannot change Gerald opinion, or his decision, nor can I find much anger for what he did," she pressed on, forcing herself to remain dead steady in the presence of Joachim's intense stare. "All I can do is assure you this, Joachim. You are _family_ to me. You are a _son_ to me. There are no exceptions, no matter how scary men like Ernst Kaltenbrunner may be."

Lene trailed off. She said all she needed to say to him. She loved him was what her point had been. All that Joachim could do was stare at her at first, then he pulled himself up from his resting place on her lap.

" _Promise_?" Joachim inquired in a small voice, speaking for the very first time. He sounded beyond worried that it had all been some sort of eight yearlong elaborate pranks on her part. Lene answered him by wrapping her arms around him once again.

"I promise," she assured him, her face planted into the crook of his neck.

It would be a promise Lene would keep for the rest of her life.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: Clean up. Removal of the Life Magazine and Patton reaction scene; it had no place in this chapter. It might return later.**


	7. Hanala and Joachim

**Chapter Seven: Hanala and Joachim - January 29th, 1943**

…

Hanala moaned as she once again looked at the underside of her forearm for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

She should have had more sense than that. She should have known better than to mix her medications with her alcohol. As it had turned out, she was the only one of the group drinking heavily. Neither Veyare nor Rala felt a need to do so, nor found a way to pry her away from her. It was just sort of something she had to do. Everything had gone to shit and now Joachim was on his own.

She wasn't certain about Hoch mental state at the moment. He was acting fine when she was with him last, but then Mother got an unexpected call from none other than Lene Langer. Joachim had had a full blown emotional breakdown. Something, Lene reckoned, that was in the making since he was freed from Gestapo custody, and the events of his battle in North Africa finally making the stone wall which held everything back to crack and break.

The very thought of Joachim breaking down and doing Ancestors knows what to express his pain sent a shiver up her spine. He was unbelievably strong. Anything else seemed so… _wrong_ to her.

Sighing moodily, Hanala looked once more at her arm for the hundred and first time.

There, stretching from just above her wrist, to her joint was a large tattoo she had gotten some time during her drunken tryst. It had been the Reichsadler. The German eagle that all of Germany's armed forces wore on their caps and uniforms. It had been different however somehow in her drunken state; she had somehow managed to convince the marine tattooist that instead of a Swastika she wanted an Iron Cross in its place.

Regardless of just how she had managed to convey her words in anything more articulate then a slur, Joachim was going to kill her when she showed her face to him at long last. She rolled down her sleeve. Perhaps it was not too late for her to get it removed… perhaps after he got to see it first-hand. Perhaps he would not mind it. Joachim had become quite progressive as of late.

"I cannot believe I did this…" she moaned as she rubbed her facial scarring tenderly. "How stupid was I last night…"

"Unbelievably stupid, Hanala…" Rala agreed with her friend. "You commanded that poor marine to tattoo this... _thing_ … None of them wanted to counterman an order from an Admiral… so… Anything I need to know?"

Hanala shrugged.

"Just be sweet, and he'll be sweet back to you."

Turning the corner and stepping past the shuttle pilot exiting the docking bay, Hanala nearly jumped at the mass standing all alone by the side of the transportation.

"Joachim?" Hanala spoke up, her voice growing more nervous than usual.

Dropping his cigarette at the sound of her beckoning, Joachim turned around, causing Hanala to freeze in place to simply stare at him. He looked different. Much more tired, he looked like he had aged dramatically. There, on his lapel, where oak leaves instead of runes and buttons. They were the exact same markers as Gerald Langer, around his neck, a brand new medal. A new rank and a new medal; a year ago this meant something to him. Now they looked as though they were weights around his neck. Like the uniform he wore was radioactive.

He remained dead silent as he finally made his way forward to join her. His skin was paling then usual as he stopped in front of her and simply looked down at the foot and a quarter shorter woman. His eyes took in every new feature the woman was sporting. There was still no smile that broke for her, that trademark display that told her that everything was going to be alright.

Hanala wasn't sure why she did it, but her eyes filled with water as Joachim's hand reached up to push through her short pixie cut, a crooked look slowly planted on his lips. Slowly his fingers grazed down the side of her face. They stopped as soon as were over top of her bullet scarring.

"Hanala…" He said at last, finally finding words to speak for her. "I see you managed to clean the blood out of the coat."

Smiling crookedly, she leaned in to press her lips against his. She was not able to complete it. Joachim's smoky fingers reached up to press against her lips, stopping her dead. Hanala pulled back, ignoring the pang that perhaps he had been repulsed by her now. It was a stupid, childish fear, but one she held regardless. How could anyone blame her? She was hideous…

Before she could make an apology for the much needed display of affection she wanted to give him, Joachim gestured past her. His attention was squared onto behind her.

Hanala blinked and turned back to remember that they were not alone. Rala had followed her. Of course, Joachim hated to be affectionate in front of others. Bouncing on the tips of her toes slightly, she laughed nervously as she grabbed Joachim's natural hand and led the man over to Rala, who stood there staring at him. Whether of nervousness or intrigue, Hanala could not detect.

"Joachim Hoch, this is Rala'Navora vas Daimea," she introduced him to the other woman. "She's an old school friend who has decided to rekindle our friendship after my recent promotion… must have been bored with Motherhood. Rala, this is my miniature krogan, Joachim Hoch. "

Rala giggled slightly, but immediately stopped the moment she took in the stare being focused on her by the human. All Joachim did was stare at her friend with his empty blue eyes. Normally Hanala was fine with the look, but this one seemed different; less inquisitive and more judgemental in nature. Such a thing was a foreign concept when it came to Joachim.

"Shouldn't you have places to be?" Joachim spoke, his voice and words sardonic. "If you have a child, shouldn't you be with it?"

Hanala and Rala froze dead at the statement.

Hanala cleared her throat, but was stopped by Joachim pushing past Hanala.

"No Hanala, I'm not done," Joachim cut her off as though he had read her mind. He stepped forward, his focus never leaving poor Rala.

"Do you think it's wise to revel in the past by getting her drunk and tattooing her?" he pressed on, no filter for his personal thoughts. "Or how about something that is as simple as knowing better than to allow a gravely wounded woman to binge drink while she's in recovering. Are you that stupid?"

Hanala's cheeks were hot in shame and embarrassment as she rubbed her tattoo, already spotted by Joachim apparently. Her embarrassment was partially because of Joachim attitude, partially because Joachim never said anything unless there was truth behind his words. She should have been resting, she should have been sober, but she had gotten so bored that she needed the release. It was stupid. It was beyond stupid.

"It was _my_ decision, Joachim," Hanala spoke up, forcing her shame to hide from sight.

Rala shook her head.

"No… he's right, Hanala. You are in no position to take blame for this," Rala spoke, her voice quavering as she avoided those frightening blue eyes. "Admiral or not I should have looked out for you better."

Rala backed up away from the leering human hovering so close to her, she shot Hanala a significant glance before turning away to leave. Shooting Joachim a withering glare, Hanala followed her friends retreat from the docking bay and away from the enraged giant human.

"You're right about that," Joachim called out as the two women left the docking bay. "The moment you have a child you give up your right to be stupid!"

Oh…. Joachim was dead. He was so dead.

For now however, she would try to be conciliatory.

"Rala… Joachim didn't mean to offend…" Hanala tried to explain, smiling nervously. "He's very… _traditional_. It's just how he was raised. He's coming into his own still. Plus, I think he's just scared."

Once again Rala shook her head, this time she managed to force a smile. Slowly she shrugged and then stepped past Hanala, leaving her seething in her own rage and humiliation as she entered the docking bay once more, her hand forming into a fist as she joined Joachim.

"I presume-" he started

Joachim did not have time to finish what he had to say. The moment Joachim looked up, Hanala fist lashed out, connecting against his jaw. All of his balance failed completely, Joachim fell to the steel grates with a loud series of bangs. The man sprawled out groaned as he spat blood and saliva out of his mouth. He rolled onto his side, still moaning by the surprise attack.

Hanala ignored the pang that told her she might have did something wrong. He was being a bastard and he deserved to be laying there.

"What in the _hell_ is wrong with you?" Hanala demanded, stepping forward, feet on either side of his sprawled out form.

Joachim chuckled darkly.

 _"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorn…"_ Joachim muttered in English as he started to pick himself up. "I said the truth, and I am to be punished for it? She should have known better. The same applies to your sister-in-law. Both of them should have placed your health over rash activities."

Hanala's eyes behind, her foot snapped out and kicked the man hard in his side. Joachim yelped and collapsed once again. Joachim's hands reach out and grabbed onto her ankles.

"I'm wrong in my judgement? Well what are you going to do about it? Kick me some more?" he demanded to know. "Go on… show me your moral high ground again, you awful _bitch_."

Hanala growled lowly, and in one swift movement, pounced on the bastard.

She would make him pay.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Making him pay, as it turned out, meant having sex. To be fair, though, it was _reaaaalllly_ angry sex.

On a deserted cruiser sized vessel, the two of them screamed at each other every possible negative adjective they could think of, including a variety of quarian, turian and asari words she picked up over the years. It was brutal. So brutal Hanala was worried it might have opened up some of her fresh scar tissue. Especially worrisome were the bite marks now covering her body.

Wincing, Hanala itched herself insides by shifting her knees and thighs together. She was still itchy from him. Bathing and creams weren't working.

 _'Breeched the exosphere, two minutes out.'_

Hanala glanced over to Joachim. He was distant, quiet, refused to look at anything that could reflect a surface. Gone was his mechanical limb transplant, there in its place was a stub; his entire sleeve was pinned up.

He would not move what remained off his arm; he said he hated the feeling it had, moving something that once was there. _'It was taunting him'_ he said. She was no mental health specialist, but if she had to venture a guess it seemed like phantom limb syndrome to her.

The shuttle touched down. Hanala checked her chronometer; it was five in the morning, local time. Rubbing his eyes, Joachim fumbled with the safety system. One armed it was difficult without practice. Hanala unstrapped herself and climbed over to him, carefully opening the cage to help Joachim out of his seat. Hanala followed Joachim out of the shuttle.

Standing before them was an honour guard of SS men. Rifles extended out as they stood at attention; All the way down the line stood none other than Gerald Langer, next to him Lene, both of them waiting as though they were proud parental figures. Joachim grinned and extended his arms as he went to go meet them. The moment he realized what he was doing, he pulled back.

"Lene… Gerald…" Joachim greeted instead. "Nice to see the two of yo-"

Before he could finish, Gerald Langer wrapped his arms tightly around Joachim, managing to pull the giant off the ground by several centimetres.

"Standartenführer Joachim _Wilbur_ Hoch," Gerald crowed as he let go of his protégé with the largest of grins. "I'm finding it difficult to believe that you're my equal now. Now I have to go and get myself promoted again, you're starting to make my life very uncomfortable!"

Hanala watched as Joachim smiled to his mentor without any real warmth behind it.

"Like they'd ever want to make you an Oberführer…" Joachim started, but did not finish.

Hanala turned as Joachim focused his attention to Lene. She had covered her mouth, her eyes wide and wet with unchecked tears. She had not seen Joachim with his arm replacement. The sight of someone who was family in all ways but blood missing something

"I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry that I am staring. I feel so _awful_ ," Lene admitted her voice cracking as she stepped past Gerald. "I knew you were removing that limb, and I know it's just a temporary thing… still it did not prepare me for seeing you like this."

Joachim shrugged his arm and stump.

"You and me both, Lene," Joachim quietly returned as he focused his attention onto the watery eyed older woman. "It's hard to look in a mirror. I don't like what's looking back... Anyways, it will only be for two or three weeks... right?"

Lene nodded her head; she looked bothered by it still.

"Right, and speaking of which, Herr Kaltenbrunner is sitting in my office for your paperwork," Gerald spoke, shutting through Lene and Joachim's moment. "Then you will be sent to the Kehlsteinhaus your assignment to the Führer and to his circle… your new friends; a private audience with the Führer on a personal trip? This is enviable."

It wasn't the loving adoration radiating off of Lene and Gerald for Hitler that made Hanala's blood boil. It was the thought of Joachim's tormentor only metres away from them inside, waiting to sit him down and torment him some more that bothered her.

" _Kaltenbrunner_ ," Hanala hissed mutinously, the name was poisonous to her. "I'm going to _kill_ him."

Joachim and Gerald turned their attention to her curiously. Next to her, Lene nodded.

"That makes two of us," Lene added.

Gerald laughed at the two of them as though their threats of violence against his superior weren't genuine.

"Enough of the dramatics," he said with a mild grin. "Come along Joachim."

Joachim tensed up as soon as Gerald Langer pressed his hand onto Joachim's arm to lead him into the quarian liaison headquarters. Like Lene and Hanala, he too wanted nothing more to do with that son of a bitch. As much as Hanala wanted nothing better than to point out that Kaltenbrunner was a psychotic traitor working with the quarians, Hanala bit her tongue.

"No husband, you pour Kaltenbrunner another drink," Lene interrupted, gripping Joachim's arm. "I would like a few words with the two of them."

Earning a stern look from Gerald for the interruption, he remained silent as he patted what was left of Joachim's left arm. He pushed up the walkway, his guard detail in lockstep behind him.

As soon as Gerald entered the museum atrium, Lene turned back to Hanala and Joachim. Her hand reached down to latch onto Joachim's wrist. Carefully, she lifted it up, her eyes scanning the vibration coming from him.

"You have the shakes, Joachim," said Lene as she allowed her grip to loosen. "It's faint but they are there. It reminds me of my father when he sobered up."

Hanala watched as Lene dragged her hands up Joachim's arm. She ignored how intensely the old woman was looking at him, how intense Joachim was staring back at her as she pushed her fingers into the facial scar. She ignored the hot flash of conflicted jealousy. They were close. Uncomfortably close, it felt like it was romantic to Hanala. Like Lene was the unattainable chase for Joachim into Hanala quite literally stabbed her way into Joachim's life. On the other hand, they were clearly like family.

It was strange and needed an explanation soon. Before Hanala lost her casual side and simply accuse Joachim of screwing Lene at one point or another.

"My Father served in the Second Boer War, as a volunteer for the Afrikaners of course," Lene explained to both of them, smiling as she pushed her hand through Joachim's hair. "He was idealistic about weakening the English grip on Africa, especially when our old colonies in East Africa were in constant peril."

The slight smile Lene wore vanished.

"Well, the Canadians put three holes through him at Paardeberg. He was lucky to have survived. He came home after the English routed the Boers, addicted to morphine and a high functioning weekend alcoholic," she continued, her tone flattening out. "The week would end, the drinking would increase. He always found the time to take his cane to my mother."

Joachim's expression turned into a look of total rage. The words hit rather close to home apparently. Lene for her part remained unfazed. She laid her hand onto his shoulder, reminding him that all of this was very likely before he was even born. His indignation was unneeded.

"Did he-"

"No. He never could raise a hand against me…" Lene soothed his coursing anger. "My brother, Karl on the other hand… Well it doesn't matter… he died next to Gerald in the great Somme artillery barrage. It's… how I met Gerald… He had trench leave and used it to bring Karl home… strange how things happen…"

Lost in the thought of family lost, Lene turned back, shaking her head.

"They always found a way to forgive him…" she pressed on. "It was easy to when four or five days out of the week he was perfectly sober. "

There was a moment's pause. Lene used it to wipe the snowflakes falling onto Joachim's jacket. Hanala frowned to herself. Were most human families this plagued with abuse? Would Joachim be like Lene's father? Like his Father?

"Could you forgive him?" Joachim spoke up, his voice unnaturally soft.

Straightening Joachim's Knight Cross like a mother would for one of her sons ties, Lene looked up to him; a strained, empty smile crossed her expression.

"The screams I had to listen to when Mother locked me in my room just in case that night was the night where he would harm me? Watching my brother clean the blood from my mother's face and body because she did not have the strength left to do it herself?" she listed off for him. Slowly Lene shook her head, adding. "No… Never did… never will… The story sounds familiar, right?"

Joachim looked down at her, just as slowly as she; Joachim nodded his head in agreement. He looked like a 6'4 child at how sheepish he appeared. Lene's crooked look turned into a wider, sweeter smile as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her lips pressing against his cheek.

Awkwardly, Joachim gave her a one armed hug in turn. He looked up over Lene's shoulder and into Hanala's eyes. Hanala smiled right back at him. Lene spoke up as she pulled herself from out of Joachim's feeble grip on her waist

"So please, Joachim; don't be like my father… or your father. For my sake and for Hanala, just… cut back; stop if you can," Lene said as she blinked back her tears and turned back to Hanala and added. "Though I imagine if you were to lay your hand on Hanala in the same sort of manner as my Father did to my Mother, I believe Hanala will outright kill you."

Hanala nodded her head gravely.

" _Eviscerate_ , Lene," Hanala amended for her. "I would cut out his organs while he was still conscious."

Looking briefly to Joachim as he went sheet white at the statement, Lene kicked back her head and laughed.

"Good," she agreed.

Joachim nodded his head gravely. He knew these two were not humouring him.

"Yes Lene," was Joachim's dulled response.

No matter how lame his words sounded, what mattered was that for the first time since Hanala and Joachim had reunited, Joachim was actually smiling. Perhaps not by Hanala's hand, but she would take the small victory. Lene crossed her arms and arched her brow at Joachim.

"And no more narcotics?" she pressed on. "Don't say you don't use them. I know when someone was using. And you sitting on my front steps drooling incoherently is not a good way to deny it."

Hanala blinked. Joachim was using narcotics? This was news to her. Not once before the strafing had Joachim used.

Joachim dared not look at Hanala, worried that she would judge him. Again he nodded his head.

"Yes Lene."

"Good…" Lene spoke briskly, ending their heart to heart. "I'll see if I can convince Gerald to keep you in town, at least long enough to make us some breakfast. I would invite to cook for you as well Hanala, but I have no idea how one cooks for quarians."

"Sounds good," Joachim agreed with her. "I'll see you in a bit, mom…"

Hanala's eyes widened, her cheeks purpled. It was quite possibly the sweetest thing that she ever heard Joachim say.

It was also quite possibly the most awkward thing she heard in her entire life as well.

Both Lene and Joachim stared at each other blankly, both at a loss for words. It was clear now that Joachim probably should have thought that out a tad more. At the very least, it cleared up any of the fears Hanala felt about the relationship between the two of them. Joachim viewing Lene as a mother was infinitely better than him thinking of seducing her to adultery…

"Well…" Joachim started, rubbing his neck. "That… sounded better in my head."

Lene finally smiled, the look was pure sympathy for him as she patted his shoulder.

"I think it's sweet," she confessed to him. "Awkward, but sweet; I think you may need to wait until Helena has children before I can get comfortable with that. The last thing you want me to do is make me feel old..."

As Joachim nodded, Lene leaned inwards, stepping on her tippy to plant a rather wet sounding kiss on his forehead. Wet enough to leave a lipstick stain. Grinning as he wiped his head, his confidence up enough to face the son of a bitch waiting with Langer, Joachim nodded and turned away, leaving Hanala with Lene.

As soon as he vanished from sight, Lene's smile turned to a frown. She turned back to Hanala.

"I'm leaving him in your care, now..." she said, her voice dangerously low. "He's not stable, Hanala… If you don't keep him level, if he slips back into the mess I found him in, I'm not going to forgive you."

Hanala nodded. With that said, Lene followed Joachim and Gerald's path to the museum, leaving the woman alone and wondering just how fragile Joachim really was.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

At seven in the morning, Lene Langer had finally wrapped up a breakfast for Joachim. They were running late. This should have just been a brief visit before Joachim went on to his next phase.

Ignoring the urge to storm in there, Admiral Halid'Zorah instead waited until Joachim had exited the cafeteria and the company of the two Langer's as well as Hanala, who held back to seek out her brother. Probably to catch up, or make up, considering the rumours he had heard about how much the two of them despised each other.

It did not matter as Joachim turned the corner and found Admiral Zorah hitting by the exit. Quietly, the Admiral pulled himself from out of the bench and stepped over to Joachim, who had frozen in place.

"Admiral Zorah..." was all that Joachim had to say to him, his voice forced to be neutral.

Halid knew exactly why the human wasn't particularly pleased to see the Admiral. Halid was now a constant reminder that the events of the past two or so days had happened. He must have been plagued with great doubt and no small amount of self-loathing.

Whatever the case, Joachim would have to get use to the further interaction. They were now at the point where they would have to be working cohesively. Perhaps he could convince Von Stauffenberg to work with his Waffen-SS counterpart during the operation. It would be probably smoother. Of course, the downside would be two agents with missing arms, in Stauffenberg's case, an eye and two fingers as well. He was risking a lot on Joachim as it was.

"It's a pleasure to see you again Hoch," Halid pressed on, checking the hall for any encroaching Germans. "Can you speak to me in English?"

Joachim could only stare at the man, his brow cocked. Slowly, Hoch nodded his head. Halid smiled slightly as he pressed his hand into Joachim's back as he led him down the final dozen metres to the exit of the museum.

"You have been summoned to the Hohenzollern estate," Zorah spoke as they stepped out onto the grounds of the museum. "The future Crown Prince and Kaiser, Louis Ferdinand Hohenzollern has made a request for your company. I realize this is sudden and unexpected, but it is expected you are to greet him."

By the time he reached snow covered walkway, Halid realized he was alone. He turned back and found Hoch standing on at the top of the stairs. He stood there simply staring down on the Admiral. Halid frowned. Had he offended the man in some way? Von Rundstedt had told him how little respect the Prussian nobility had after the catastrophe of the Great War. Hoch, Zorah remembered, had more reason to feel so complicated about it.

Snorting in sheer disgust, Hoch finally descended the steps to join Halid. He looked down on the Admiral as though Halid had called his Mother a whore.

"You're working with the _royals_? Are you _mad_?" Joachim said as he stormed down the final steps to confront the shorter man. "They're the whole reason this shit happened in the first place! The Kaiser was a fuck up of the highest order! He spent two decades building his army to psychotic levels and screaming at the English in ways that terrified the entire world! I will _not_ present myself a willing subject to those _people_!"

Zorah remained unmoved by the truth Hoch was speaking. If Halid had his way, the German's would be ready for a proper political system. Whether earth or Rannoch based, he did not care. But between a choice of total military dictatorship and a young, modern and enlightened Kaiser, Zorah stood behind Louis Ferdinand.

"You will. This is non-negotiable, Hoch," Zorah spoke plainly for the fuming larger human. "I have given you considerable leeway. As noble as your intentions were these past few days. They presented greats risks. Risks I was willing to take for you. You will present yourself to Louis Ferdinand. You will listen to what he says."

Still Joachim looked disturbed by this news. Halid wasn't surprised. The Royal line of the Hohenzollern was simply not trusted. It would have to take many good deeds on Louis' watch to earn any sense of respect from the people of Germany.

"I can assure you he is not of the same mould as his grandfather, nor even his own Father," Halid defended the young Prince from the onslaught of the anti-monarchist. "He's educated in the real world –spent many years traveling, he even settled down in America, where he learned to be an engineer. He was never meant for the head of the family until his brother renounced the throne to marry a minor title holder. Even then, Louis never expected an actual return to power, he's good acquaintances with the American President, Roosevelt. Tell me, do you think the Kaiser of old would do the same?"

Hoch started to cross his arms when he suddenly realized that the task was made impossible by his lack of a second limb.

"No, the Kaiser was too busy trying to be English," returned the steadily more annoyed Hoch. "Wilhelm II wanted to be just like his cousin George. This time, this idiot will try emulating the Americans. As if those jumpy _mongrels_ are preferable. The Hohenzollern family are not worth the shit under my boots."

Snorting, Joachim shook his head.

"No..." he pressed on. "I'm going to Austria. Whether by car, train or by your shuttle it does not matter. I'm done being yanked around like a chained dog. I'm doing your job, then I quit. I'm staying out of the fight. I'm not picking up another goddamn gun for as long as I live. I've got enough blood on my hands for you all."

Halid's eyes widened as Hoch turned from him and continued off in the direction of the shuttle.

Already his heart felt like it was in overdrive as he tried to comprehend what Joachim had just said. He was done? He was done with the only thing in his life that he knew for a profession? Zorah was unable to comprehend what he was saying. This was completely contrary to what he had expected. He expected the complaints, but the declaring of ending his career? Had his visit to Buchenwald really affected him that much?

 _"Blood on your hands?"_ Zorah shouted out at the retreating German. "What blood on your hand?"

It was quite possibly the worst thing that Halid could have said. Joachim froze and turned back, he approached, wild eyed and looking completely and utterly manic. If he had two arms he would not have been surprised in the slightest if Hoch reached out and pulled him off the ground by his lapels.

 _ **"THIS THING!"** _Hoch shrieked, his hand gripping the Knight's Cross, like he wanted it cast into his Christian Hell. "The only way to get Hitler's final approval for my assignment was what happened in the desert. So you sent my unstable ass off to Algeria to do the deed. Fuck all of you! I'm done with this war! I'm done with all of you!"

Zorah simply stared at Hoch as his ranting subsided. Halid was officially done with this.

"I am dead tired, Joachim. I haven't had proper sleep since I first found out about the exterminations; I haven't seen my wife and daughter in a month," Halid snapped back at the angry younger human. "I am not going to be fucked around by you Germans any longer. For an entire year I have had to deal with your stupid, petty rivalries. I've had to reshuffle your entire industrial base so that it's now being weaned off slave labour. I've had to clean up the genocide you allowed to happen."

Joachim was not moved in the slightest.

 _"You want us to die for your future war with as little blood spilled by your lot,_ _ **THEN YOU HAD BETTER BE READY TO HANDLE OUR ISSUES, YOU BLABBERING INVALID!"**_ Hoch continued to scream.

His words were like piercing knife's that made the quarian nearly jump. Gone was any semblance of Joachim`s control, nor his well-crafted identity he used to side behind. Joachim looked like he was a man possessed.

 **"HOW MANY TIMES AND IN HOW MANY LANGUAGES MUST I HAVE TO SCREAM AT YOU FOR YOUR COMPREHENSION?"** Joachim roared on. **"I AM** _ **DONE**_ **WITH THIS ROLE!"**

Dead silence fell between the two of them. Joachim's chest was heaving as he stood there looking between the Admiral and his missing arm. Hoch was a pitiful sight. A shadow of what he apparently once was. This had showed his true colours to Halid. Joachim Hoch was a scared boy in way over his head, all thanks to the deals he made and mentors whom he had placed so much faith into.

What Hoch did not seem to understand was that for as long as he was with the Party, he should have known better. This was his mess, and now Hoch would have to be a part of the solution.

"I understand what you are saying, Hoch," Zorah said at long last, "I just do not care."

The two men glared at each other. Gone was all semblance of civility.

"You will go to the Crown Prince, you will do as he requests, and you will be respectful to your future Kaiser," Halid repeated once more. Taking a deep breath, he carefully added. "Or else when this is over, I'll have the proper authorities arrest Gerald for what he did during the November 9th-10th, 1938 race riots. That prison camp you went to? Buchenwald? Well Gerald sent somewhere in the range of two hundred Jews to that camp and to one called Dachau. They were all released in half a year or so. Whether they came out alive or dead or beaten into a state not much different than your own, I cannot be for certa-"

"-Buchenwald and the other camps were _different_!" Joachim cut across, looking close to blowing all what was left of his self-control. "It was strictly re-education and rehabilitation camps back then!"

"You mean re-education through torture, rehabilitation through work and severe, possibly disabling punishment, for someone who spent nearly three months in the hands of the very same people, you are surprisingly permissive," Halid shot back, incredulous to the amount of belief radiating from Joachim. "It might not have been the camp you went to, but they certainly were toying with the concept back then. Langer is a criminal masquerading as a legitimate man. He's little better than a common brown shirted thug. Just like you would have been had it not for my good graces I imagine."

From where he stood, he could see the man seething at the honest observation of his mentor, the closest thing to a Father he had. The truth hurt, but it was better than to keep him blind.

"Would you like to venture a guess about what would if it were not for our arrival? If we simply did not come to Earth when we discovered the message?" Zorah inquired. "When Germany's fortunes worsened – and I have no doubt it would have - I would not be the least bit surprised if you were hauled before a court and tried for war crimes. Backed into a corner and no escape route like the one I provided you? Yes… I think I could see you being far less generous as you had been at Aguni Lahwa. Perhaps you would even be more inclined to agree with your leaders and do what they think necessary for the Jews of Europe."

Hoch launched himself forward, attempting to attack the Admiral for the second time in three days. But unlike the last time, when Hoch was hopped up on amphetamines and alcohol, this Hoch was clearly in a state of detoxification. He was slower, far less nimble. Halid side stepped him, reaching out to grab the man before he planted himself into the snow.

"Would you want to know why I know your future?" Zorah said as he helped the human back to his feet. "Because I know the sort of man Langer is, and I know he has trained you to be exactly what the Party wanted – an unthinking time bomb. A man tweaked to turn into mass murderer at but a single order. You were a mindless machine, ready to die for a megalomaniac and his underlings at their call. That is what you were, and that is why you're so scared now. Because Alaan and I woke you up. Because you only now understand what the war you wage has done to your world. Because being a follower was easier than doing what is necessary."

"So you're going to see the Prince," Halid pressed on, staring hard at the reluctant German. "You are a part of this conspiracy. I am an Admiral, you are a colonel. You answer to me when I issue an order… and that is my order for you to obey."

Halid stepped backwards. His eyes narrowed at the amputee.

"And as for when you're done?" the Admiral concluded. "You're done when I _say_ that you are done."

The hatred radiating from Joachim Hoch was palpable. His skin, usually pale was nearly purple. His teeth gritted as he stared down the commanding quarian. He probably wanted nothing better than to feed Zorah the hot lead shot from his Walther. Zorah remained unmoved by the rage.

Taking an unsteadied breath, Joachim turned back to look at Admiral Jarva standing by the shuttle, watching the interaction between the two of them carefully. She would get involved with this matter soon enough. Slowly, he relaxed, his remaining hand as he took a long step backward.

Without a word, Hoch turned and left, paying no attention to his new master glaring, unmoved by his plight.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _"-You will address him as His Majesty…"_

 _"Go to hell. I'm not here to see you, grandpa. You're supposed to be an officer of the Heer, not a butler to a family that hates you… then again, if you lot had any spine... you wouldn't need me doing your dirty work."_

 _"Disrespectful boy... How dare you."_

Looking up from his newspaper, Louis Ferdinand, of Prussia, the soon-to-be Crown Prince and then Kaiser of the Reich looked up briefly to his wife, Grand Duchess Kira of Russia, who was already staring in the direction of the source of the disturbance. Louis smiled slightly as he closed the newspaper.

Oh, he already knew who this was. Having made a request to meet with him, it appeared that Zorah had finally made good on his promise to deliver Standartenführer Joachim Hoch to his house for an encounter. The doors to the dining room opened and in stormed Fedor von Bock, purple in the face by the sheer guile of the younger man following him. There standing there in full Waffen-SS regalia stood Joachim Hoch. One armed, he still had a sense of power to him.

"Please gentlemen, there's no need to fight like this," Louis spoke as he moved around the table to join them. "Von Bock, there is no need to harass our guests. Joachim Hoch? It's a pleasure to finally meet you after hearing so much praise. I presume this is a bad day."

Hoch did not reply. It was clear to Louis where he stood in Hoch's opinion.

"Herr Hoch, this is my wife, Kira."

Hoch bowed his head slightly at Kira, who looked unnaturally sour at his presence. Kira was quite sweet with her guests. Then again, usually guests weren't rude and certainly not ardent National Socialists. It did not help when she heard the stories of what the SS were doing across her former homeland. She might have been exiled from Russia since the Revolution, but that certainly did not mean she forgot her roots.

From behind them, footsteps down the marble floor approached them. Light clicks really. Pushing past Von Bock stepped in a, short, slender woman, her hair short, her eyes shielded in dark sunglasses, her body covered in a long sleeved black dress. Almost the sort of thing one would wear to a funeral. Her three fingered hand reached up and tugged off her glasses, revealing those familiar bright eyes.

So this was what a quarian woman looked like, the prince pondered.

Joachim cleared his attention. He must have noticed the stare that Louis had been given. Kira was not blind to it either. She was less than impressed.

"This is Admiral Hanala'Jarva vas Bismarck," Hoch introduced the woman.

 _An Admiral?_

"Bismarck you say?" Louis repeated, smiling knowingly to Hoch, who remained dead set against any emotion other than annoyance. "Grandfather had an adviser named Bismarck. He wasn't very pleasant. Zorah told me the significance of the vas Bismarck part…"

" _Barbarian_ ," muttered Kira under her breath in English.

The remark wasn't lost on Joachim Hoch. He turned his attention onto her.

"That's rich from a Russian exile, a peasant noble, ousted by her own countrymen…" Hoch shot back in English as good as her own.

As much as honour dictated that he needed to defend his wife. He could not help but to be impressed by how explosively confrontational this man was. It was just how Admiral Halid`Zorah had warned him when he gave him Joachim Hoch's psychological profile. If he were to continue his dealings with the bitter SS colonel, he would have to be patient and remain polite.

So instead of berating the SS man, he turned to Kira and offered her a slight smile. It was clear as day it was a wordless dismissal. Staring hard at Hoch, and then a withering glare to the pretty alien, Kira left the room at a pace that made Guderian's offensive look like trench warfare. She was immediately consoled by the brooding Fedor von Bock, who gave the young German junior officer and the Prince a hard stare before leaving.

They did not speak as the woman helped Hoch out of his long coat, and then took his peaked cap. His hair was buzzed. A strange sight considering but services did not force buzz cuts like the American armed forces. Louis stepped forward, bridging the gap as he extended his hand out to the younger man.

Hoch stared at the gesture wearily. He took the hand offered and shook it.

"What do you need, your majesty," spoke the soldier, his voice blank as he masked his displeasure. "You'll forgive me if I am terse."

Louis inclined his head.

"With what is on the horizon, I cannot blame you. And please, Standartenführer, just Louis," Louis requested smoothly, shooting Hoch a cool smile that wasn't returned. "I'm not even head of the Hohenzollern family just yet, let alone your better. Admiral Zorah feels it best if I am prepared for my future role as Kaiser, so he has assigned von Bock to serve as my educator. The old man disapproves of my American education. I do not believe he even considers me Prussian. I cannot blame him, nor do I take issue with it. There is very little pride one can find in a nation that killed and bloodied Europe until it was on top-"

"What do you need, your _Majesty_."

There was clear hatred in the way Hoch spoke, Louis continued to ignore it. This Hoch was a hard case.

"I think you and I can be friends," Louis returned as he too took a seat across from Hoch. "If the concept of my family returning to the centre of German power is strange, then making friends with a former National Socialist will be a trifle in comparison."

"I did not think a Prince made friends with commoners."

The words did not come from Hoch. They came from the alien behind Hoch. She stood there with a bemused expression. It was like she had thought the whole concept of nobility asinine. Considering how advanced her people were, Louis could not help but agree with her. But compared to a military dictatorship? It was preferable.

"I am not a normal Prince," he spoke to the woman, still smiling as he turned back to Hoch, adding. "Yes. I think we can be friends. First, there is a matter I wish to discuss. It regards the choice you will be granted soon; A decision of mercy or judgement."

"The Führer," Joachim guessed, leaning into his seat.

Louis nodded only once.

"Yes, Adolf Hitler's time in power is dwindling," Louis agreed with the Standartenführer. "The only thing left to be determined will be if the power-play shall be a peaceful transition, or a bloody civil war. Your decision will help shape the path."

"I stand here before you as a man of rationality. I do not relish in swift justice nor lynch squads," he pressed on, lacing his fingered together as he leaned his elbows onto the table. "I do not say this lightly, but Adolf Hitler shall be my exception. I want you to do the country, the world and this alliance with the quarians a favour and simply execute him the moment the time is right."

Joachim remained stony faced. Behind him the quarian advisor, Hanala looked very uneasy by what the Prince was asking. She appeared wanting nothing better than to speak her mind. Louis could not blame either of them. Such words of brutality made him uneasy as well, but desperate times called for desperate public requests.

"No trial, no jury like he himself has denied to millions of the dead that were from his insanity," Louis continued. "There will be only a verdict from you, Joachim; a man who knows this tyrants apparent insanity, a man who knows what his thoughts and words have inspired others to do."

From behind them, the quarian woman standing in the corner of the room stepped forwards, her hands appeared to have a life of their own. It was clear she was seeing Louis's side much more clearly than whatever was on Hoch's mind.

"You're talking about nullifying the oath everyone has sworn to him," the quarian said finding her voice. "The Wehrmacht, the SS even. Hoch, what use do they have to fight for a dead man? Perhaps he is right. Perhaps a bullet right between his eyes is all Hitler deserves."

The Prussian blanched at what the woman had said. How could someone with such a sweet, almost innocent voice say something like that? The words were enough to make Hoch turn back to stare at the woman. To him it appeared completely normal for such a small looking woman to speak in a matter like that. As soon as she noticed the stare radiating from Hoch, she fell silent.

"No… I will not do it," Joachim stated as he turned back to face Louis once more.

 _He… He would not do it?_

"Think rationally," Louis spoke, fighting the note of panic in his voice. "Your loyalty, whatever remains to the National Socialist Party is blinding you to the only reasonable choice there is."

Hoch held up his hand.

"With all due respect, I think _you_ should think rationally," Joachim spoke, the blank voice growing edged, terse. "I know the SS, for eight years it was my entire life. Do you actually think they will lay down their arms the moment Hitler is dead? They will focus on ascending to power themselves and they will kill any man or woman who gets in their way. Killing Hitler only gives them the excuse they need, and the people will support them as a natural successor to him."

Hoch paused for a moment. An odd smile crossed his mouth.

"As for loyalty, you would be surprised how quickly loyalty ends when you spend day in and day out being beaten to a bloody mess by a subgroup inside your own organization. Tortured for the sake of torture, starved and drugged with God knows what..." Hoch listed off, speaking quietly.

"Loyalty…" He repeated as though it had been a bad joke. "You don't know a thing about me to make that sort of assumption."

"Zorah did not inform of this."

Hoch lowered his head. Louis could have sworn that he heard Hoch mutter something quite awful under his breath in English.

"That's Zorah for you. Smoke and mirrors," Hoch said rising his tone back up.

Louis quirked his lips.

"These are tense times for all of us. You mustn't judge Admiral Zorah so harshly." Louis defended Zorah , who was a good man in his books. "I just cannot stand watching a repeat of the revolution in 1918. I firmly believe that this undertaking is worth a try. At the very least it will nullify the official relationship between Hitler and the Heer. It will free the generals from fearing their mid ranks from revolting."

Hoch did not care for the slightest for Louis`s reasoning. He looked at his wristwatch.

"I am not a murderer, despite popular opinion of me," Joachim spoke simply as he stood from his seat. "Every action against my fellow man has been in defence, in conflict, or protecting others. The Führer deserves an opportunity to a fair and open trial. You're asking me to murder. There is no other way to euphemize what you're asking. "

Louis could not believe what he was hearing.

" _Tried_?" Louis repeated once more, his voice cool and collected. "Tried like the last time they tried him?"

Hoch nodded as he accepted his cap and jacket from the quarian woman.

"It will not be the same." Hoch tried to assure him as he first pulled his cap over his hair. "The Putsch was a show trial for Ludendorff's benefit. No, if what is said is true of him, he will be tried and he will swing from a noose before the whole world."

"Maybe so, but given a chance to speak, his defence, his final moments of glory will be used turning himself into a martyr for Germany, no, for any man across the world who shares his belief but is in the minority," the Prince warned the Standartenführer. "Before a trial is organized, He will inspire the SS to press on the fight; he will splinter the Wehrmacht, to which they hold loyalty to. Joachim… Adolf Hitler must die. Or else the quarian arrival will be blood soaked by the inevitable Civil War that will result."

Louis allowed a brief pause.

"I ask you to sacrifice your morals for the sake of the Fatherland."

Watching as the quarian helped the one armed Standartenführer into his overcoat, Louis silently waited for something, anything from the strange man. He watched the quarian hand him a cigarette to smoke. There was a most peculiar glint in her bright eyes. It wasn't much different than when his own Kira wanted him to do something he himself wanted nothing apart of.

Shaking his hypothesis about whatever was between human and alien, he turned to see Hoch taking a drag.

"Then you had better kill him yourself when I deliver him to the quarians," Hoch finally spoke, his voice unwavering in the face of the pressure put on him by the Prince and a whole variety of other officers backing him. "If you're so passionate about saving Germany from further bloodshed, then you better get your hands dirty too. Your Grandfather might have been a fucking lunatic, but at least he could practice what he preached."

Exhaling smoke from his mouth and nostrils like a dragon from old Germanic lore, Hoch tilted his head slightly.

"How about yourself, Kaiser?" Hoch concluded. "Can you step and do the same?"

Not bothering to wait for Louis response, Hoch left, leaving both him and his quarian standing alone in the room awkwardly. The woman coughed, nodded her head slightly and followed Hoch's lead.

 **…**

* * *

 **...**

The flight from the Hohenzollern residence to the rendezvous outside of Berchtesgaden was quiet one.

He wasn't focus on his task ahead, not on the SS he had so faithfully obeyed and now how close he was from betraying the brotherhood, he was not on the leaders of the National Socialist who would be there, men who rebuilt the country and the glory of Germany from the ashes of the humiliation that was the Weimer republic. He was not even thinking about just how many days he would be spending with the man he idolized so greatly at one point. In some ways, he still did love Adolf Hitler. He also did not think of the great betrayal he was prepared to do and the calls for murder he had to ignore.

No. The only thing on his mind was how much he wanted out. He could not do this anymore. Every action he partook in since December 1941 resulted in nothing but death and injury for friends and growing misery for him. Aguni Lahwa left him empty. The row on row of dead Americans, Germans and Italians, He felt sick to his stomach as he thought about what personal loss and narcotics resulted in.

He was done. He was completely done.

That was until he realized something. He was in a relationship with an Admiral -one of the five leaders of the fleet. She could do something about this. Zorah was one, one vote. Hanala was one vote, but she had a Father who led the whole goddamn board. She could… she could help him.

That was, if he knew how to ask for help.

It was something he never did before. Not for anything serious at least; it wasn't how he was raised, either by the Hoch's or the Langer's. The relationship between Gerald and him was more of a matter of a debt. One Gerald paid back by providing Joachim with an entire life of his own.

A life he was about to throw aw-

Joachim's hand's slapped against his forehead, catching Hanala's attention for a moment before reading something on her datapad in her native language. He could not think about what he was doing. It was for the best.

For everybody.

"Hanala… what sort of relationship is this?" Joachim suddenly spoke up; his words empty of everything but his curiosity. "Do we just have sex and live together? Are we allowed to ask things out of each other?"

Hanala looked up from her datapad. She set it down as she shifted her body to face him. Her hand reached out, touching his lap. Joachim turned his focus onto it.

"I'd like to think that this is more than just sex," Hanala admitted, her fingers squeezing Joachim's hand. "We're both independent, you're not the sort that wants to be locked up and I'm never going to be like Lene. I did not want to put any definitions on what we have just yet, other than we then that are together."

She watched as Joachim accepted the answer by nodding. His eyes remained unfocused onto her lap. With great care, Hanala leaned inwards and rested her head against Joachim's cheek. He still remained dead still. There they remained; Joachim, silent as the grave as he pondered where to start, Hanala, gingerly waiting for Joachim to speak what he needed to say.

"I'm not very good with asking for help," he confessed to her finally.

Hanala pulled herself back as soon as she rested against him. Her hand pulled from his as she wordlessly rubbed the bayonet scar running down his collarbone. Joachim closed his eyes as he allowed his senses to remain focused on her ministrations.

"I'm done, Hanala," he said, using that phrase for what felt like the thousandth time in his mind since his encounter with Zorah. "After this operation, as soon as I deliver Hitler, I'm cutting my ties to the conspiracy. I'm going to take this goddamn uniform off. I'm never going to killing another man for so long as I live. I can't keep this up for much longer."

Hanala's hand froze It was clear to Joachim that she had not expected this from him. She was right to be confused, he felt odd for saying it, for speaking something that had been on his mind since the moment he found himself in Gestapo custody. If it felt liberating that he said it to Zorah, it felt divine to know that Hanala know knew his most private thought.

"Unfortunately, Admiral Zorah sees it different…" Joachim pressed on, his words remaining neutral. "He thinks I'm going to serve him until the very end. I cut a deal for the Langer's. He's threatening to revoke it. He's willing to hand Gerald over to whoever is in charge on some trumped up sentence."

Joachim looked up to meet Hanala in the eye. She looked offended that one of her own was standing against him in this.

"Thing is… If I have to kill another person, if I have to command another man to kill, if I have to order another man to find his own death, I just don't think I'm going to last much longer," Joachim admitted, voice nearly cracking up as he squeezed Hanala's hand. "The closest thing to sleep I have had since Aguni Lahwa has been thanks to Lene protecting me. I've been perpetually drunk for the past two weeks."

Joachim spat the cigarette out of his mouth and onto the shuttle deck, his boot snapping out to step on it. He lifted his head up to look into his Hanala's bright, sympathetic expression.

"All I think about these past few days is running as far as I can; to find somewhere where no one knows my name," he continued on. "Somewhere quiet and they don't talk about hurtful things nor speak about war from wake to slumber."

Before he knew it, Hanala's lithe form wrapped around him, pulling him into a nearly bone crushing hug; a surprise considering their difference in size. Hanala once tried to explain it, something about density. He wasn't paying attention. But if given a choice between being fed all these sorts of factoids and another day of killing, he would choose learning.

Joachim suddenly laughed bitterly, his face pressed into Hanala's chest.

"I can only imagine what fresh out of the Poland campaign Joachim Hoch would think of me," he mumbled into her flesh. "Put me out of my misery probably for being this pathetic…"

Joachim could feel Hanala's chin rub left and right against his scalp, then a sudden peck.

"No, not pathetic…" her firm words echoed over him. "You're a much stronger man then 1939 Joachim. All he had was conviction, rhetoric. You have clarity, and a wisdom most men older then you would kill for. You've seen the horror of war and death. You relished in it once. Remember when we first met?"

 _"The nations that were crushed under our boots deserved their fate for being so spineless,"_ she quoted him.

Joachim looked up. Yes… he did say something that once upon a time. Back when he believed in that still.

"That was you little less than a year ago and now you have come to love the thought of living in peace more. You're not the same man anymore," she said, smiling down at him. "I'm so _proud_ of you, Joachim."

Once again, Joachim found himself buried into Hanala's chest. Unfastening his seat restrain, he leaned in to her, his one arm wrapping tightly around her.

"I'm so very tired Hanala…" he whispered to her. "I need you to help me."

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: Clean up and heavy Angst Extermination Action**

 **So, I have a confession to make. While I found the original series to be an ungodly mess (and likely still is) my motivations were a little more complex.**

 **By summer of this year I just stopped caring about the second generation Uplifted series; and I came to the awful realization (which was pointed out, but I did not take seriously) that it was fucking boring.**

 **Oh my God, it's so fucking boring... why.**

 **The main culprits as it turned out were the two characters I loved to write the most: Adam Ackerson and Daelia'Vael. My attempt to make it sort of an outsider's observation of life in the Reich but I failed to make any sort of connection people talked about having with Joachim and Hanala. In my desire to flesh out these two characters, I put the shaft to actually interesting (at least in my mind potentially interesting)**

 **In the end it had no direction and purpose and I had no motivation to continue as a result. When I banged out Eden, I just knew I couldn't continue the series, and embarked on the clean up and rewrite a few months later.**

 **So this is what is going to happen. I'm going to continue with the Uplifted original series clean up and minor plot tweaking, for the next generation, I'm going to be doing a major turnabout. I will take the focus off – or remove altogether – Daelia and Adam, and instead make major characters Hoch's only as it should have been: Charlotte and Joachim von Hoch and Emmi with the brothers Jochen and John major story players, who propel the plot and the main characters have to work around it. Much of the material will be recycled, but Integration and Grand Crusade will likely be fused into one story because of the dedication of the first story to Daelia and Adam.**

 **I feel bad I have to get rid of them. I might have to save them for a side story. On the bright side, it means more Niah'Vaytara and Charlotte von Hoch slow burn gayness…**


	8. The First Day

**Chapter Eight: The First Day - January 29** **th,** **1943**

 **...**

 _"-Eckhard keeps telling me that I don't need to dress up to marry him. Still... I don't know… he's very sweet."_

 _"Yes he most certainly is. You are lucky to have him so close by. I mean you two essentially work together!"_

 _"I know… still I feel so guilty that I will be taking a leave of absence. I know the boss said it is fine… but I still can't shake the feeling that everyone needs to be working. Especially with how terrible the boys in Stalingrad must be having it."_

 _"It's going to be alright, take the time off, try to have a child if the two of you think it's time. Be happy, this is your time to indulge. You deserve it!"_

 _"That's such a sweet thing to say!"_

In the backseats a round of _'aww's'_ and hugging occurred between the three women sitting in the back seat of the convertible. There, squished in between her car owner and her boss, the fourth woman of the car load resisted the urge to vomit at how sickly sweet everything was on their long trip from Berlin to Berchtesgaden.

The upcoming nuptials had been all the backseat had been discussing, how the two men of the car could tune it out, she simply needed to know. She rarely found fun in such joyous events. It just left her so… _bored_.

Groaning at another round of giggling, she turned her focus to ahead of her. Rounding the sharp corner, that was when she laid eyes on him for the very first time. There in front of them on the side of the winding road was a man, uniformed it seemed to her, his head was low as he trudged through the snow.

"Hey!" the woman cried out the window, catching the attention of the women in the back, her boss and the soldier outside, she turned to the driver, adding, "Hewel, pull over!"

The driver, Walther Hewel pulled the car over to the side, just a few metres in front of the walking soldier. The giant stopped his quick pace and turned back to stare wearily at the vehicle. Smiling, the woman climbed over her employer, ignoring their noise of protests as she finally reached the door and pushed herself outside. She shrieked as she stumbled and fell into the snow.

The man in uniform pushed quickly through the snow until he was looming over her, his hand outstretched down to her. Taking it gratefully, she nearly laughed at how quickly the man pulled her back up to her feet.

"Are you alright, Fraulein?" the man rumbled, letting his grip around her slip loose.

It was only then that she noticed something peculiar about him. His arm was gone. That or it was hurt and was hidden away inside his long overcoat. Slung on his back was a heavy looking rucksack, probably would kill her if she had to lug it around on her back.

"Herr Standartenführer, where are you going?" she inquired of the SS officer, her voice sweet and light. "You're a long way from Berchtesgaden, you know?"

The man inclined his head.

"That I would know… especially since I have to pass through the town to get here. I'm heading up to my new assignment," he spoke in a low rumbling tone, his hand gesturing in the direction of the Kehlsteinhaus. Dropping his hand, he added, "I presume that is where you are heading?"

She nodded as well, placing her hands on her hips.

"Oh, _you're_ the new chief of security!" She exclaimed, her smile widening even further. "May I inquire as to why you are walking? Just seems like you would have access to a vehicle to me."

"Yes I would, it's just that. I just got back from North Africa, Fraulein. I have missed the snow," the SS man replied. "I'm pretty hung over as well. I figure a nice hike would clear my head."

She frowned slightly.

"That sounds very… punishing…" she found the right words finally. "Please, will you join us? My name is Eva… Eva Braun, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Offering her hand out to the taller SS man, Eva Braun smiled gaily up at him. The man did not smile back, looking at her hand carefully; the man dropping reached out and took it, shaking her hand twice before letting go.

"Joachim Hoch," the man introduced himself before craning his neck to look around Eva and to the vehicle. "Your vehicle is full. I would not dare impose on you in such a way that it would become a hassle..."

Before he could further protest, Eva rolled her eyes and looped her arm into Joachim's, dragging the tall man back closer to the vehicle. With one good yank she brought Joachim to a bent position so he could look at the other travelling guests.

"I see Eva has already turned you into property," her boss slyly pointed out, only serving to widen Eva's smile even further. Heinrich always found a way to make everything funny; his words made the stoic giant's mouth twitch.

Eva turned back to Joachim add gestured to the carload of people watching him.

"Joachim Hoch, this is my boss, Herr Heinrich Hoffman, Walther Hewel, he is a member of the diplomatic core. He's-"

"I'm the Ambassador to nowhere, Standartenführer, charmed, by the way," Hewel interjected, offering Joachim Hoch a smooth smile. Waiting for Joachim Hoch to nod his respect to Hewel, Eva pressed on, gesturing to the ladies in the back.

"In the back are Constanze Manziarly, Traudl Humps and Gerda Daranowski, although Gerda shall soon be Frau Christian in a short while," she continued. "Everyone, this is Standartenführer Joachim Hoch, the new chief of the security to the Führer."

Smiling to Traudl and Constanze, Hoch turned his attention to Dara. Smiling, he added a nod as well.

"A pleasure to meet all of you… Fraulein Daranowski, you have my congratulations," Joachim spoke, making the mistake of asking, "Is your Fiancé serving in the SS?"

Gerda shook her head.

"Luftwaffe, Herr Hoch, Eckhart Christian; do you know of him?" Gerda spoke, her chest puffed out in a sudden display of self-importance. "An Oberstleutnant, Chief of the Armed Forces Command Staff, he is."

Eva rolled her eyes.

 _"Please forgive Dara's boasting; she seems to think she's the queen of the four of us since her marriage date was bumped ahead of schedule,"_ Eva explained in a conspiratorial whisper. _"Minister Speer has organized the wedding to be held at the Kehlsteinhaus."_

 _"My sympathies,"_ he returned, making Eva giggle privately as she watched him divert his attention back to Dara, adding, "I'm afraid not, Fraulein Daranowski. It's a wise career move. The last thing you should want for your husband is to end up looking like me."

The car laughed at his words, albeit uncomfortably. Pinching his rather dashing scarred looking high cheekbone, Eva pushed herself through the snow and placed her head back inside of the vehicle.

"Traudl, Constanze, why don't we walk the rest of the way up?" Eva directed to the two single women in the back seat. "It's not too far now. You both will be working closely with him, might as well get to know him!"

Traudl and Constanze shuffled nervously in the backseat. Constanze cleared her throat.

"Oh…" said Constanze.

"… Ahhh…." was Traudl's intelligent response.

"It's settled!" Eva exclaimed before pulling her head from out of the window, her hair bobbing up and down as she looked to Hoch, adding. "Just wait for a moment, Herr Hoch, I have to fetch my coat and my little Negus and Stasi. They are in dire need for a walk."

Watching Hoch nod, she climbed back into the car. The first thing Eva went for were her shawl and knit cap.

Grabbing her leashes next, she opened the dog kennel, smiling widely as her two little Scottish Terriers –Negus and Stasi bolt from out of the cage, Negus paused for a moment to lick her hand before joining Stasi outside to bark up at the waiting Hoch.

He looked very uncomfortable with the arrival of dogs. Eva rolled her eyes. He was probably in Adi's mindset. He would be more of a fan of that beast, Blondi.

Grumbling at how terrible taste this Hoch probably had in canines, Eva turned back to look at Traudl. She sat there quietly, her eyes flickering from straight ahead to the side, where Hoch had bent down in an attempt to pat Stasi. Eva grinned. She was entranced, utterly and haplessly entranced. Oh would this ever be such a fun game to play!

"So… what do you think Traudl, Constanze?" Eva called out as she pulled on her gloves. "Not bad looking for a man with one arm… Or should I have to wait for Gretl to arrive and ask her instead?"

Eva privately smiled as Constanze and Traudl shared a look. The two of them climbed out of Hewel's car without a word. Leaning inwards to kiss Dara on the cheek, Eva joined Adi's secretary and dietician outside as the two single women cozied up to tall dark and handsome standing there at a state of near attention.

If this was going to be another dull getaway, she might as well have some fun playing matchmaker.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

This was a private club.

The moment Hanala entered the room and watched the four Admirals, who were in heated conversation only moments prior, fell dead silent as soon as Hanala entered the chambers. She suddenly felt like a child again, interrupting an important conversation between her parents or between Father and Grandmother. It was clear to her now that her appointment was purely a technical decision. She had the most extensive dealings with humans, outside of Admiral Zorah.

As such, Hanala knew that Father was probably aware the reasons why she was here. They were emotional reasons, but she had made a promise to Joachim that she would fight for him. No matter how embarrassing it might end up, she would fulfill her pledge to help him in however a way he needed it. In this chase, he needed to escape the roles he was being forced into.

She was also aware of how little the five of them thought of Joachim Hoch. All of them assumed in some way or another that his state was an act, his expressions of exhausting a put on meant to trick them into doing what they wanted.

"We gather here at the insistence of the newest member of the Admiralty Board, Hanala'Jarva," Hanala heard her Father say, "I open the floor to her."

In three seconds Hanala came up with a new plan.

 _Divide and conquer._

"I came here with the intentions of freeing a friend from what appears to be servitude at the hands of Admiral Halid'Zorah, I realize now that I will be unsuccessful," Hanala spoke up, her words catching the other four off guard. "As such, I bring forth a different motion: To transfer control of the Gotterdammerung project over to Admiral Habva'Vaerhit and Admiral Utala'Falan for the duration of the operation, with Admiral Zorah helping him transfer power without a rough flow issue. I base my motion on evidence of emotional compromise and corruption I have seen in both Admiral Halid'Zorah and, to a lesser extent, Admiral Alaan'Jarva."

The gathering looked on her like she walked in the room strapped with an explosive device. This was a coup in their eyes, a coup against a club organizing a coup themselves. Let it be known that Hanala loved her irony; especially as she took in the expressions of shock and greed on Admirals Falan and Vaerhit's face. Hanala had handed them the opportunity to advance far past her father and the emerging powerhouse that was Halid'Zorah.

 _Zorah_. Oh… how quickly that stupid looking, calming smile had vanished off his smug expression. She had once warned him she would burn him. This may not have been the Citadel Council she was burning him with, but it was the next best thing. She could always make it worse. She could always present her case to the entirety of the conclave. She could show the captains of the fleet what their Admirals were up to.

"Before you say anything regarding my motion as hypocritical, the thing is, as a Junior Admiral that has only been assigned as a technical leader, I have no power in regards to the conspiracy," Hanala elaborated, pushing her offensive against her Father and the Zorah bosh'tet, "I do, however, have a voice and a vote, and as such I will use them both."

The four Admirals looked at her as though she had grown an extra head. Utala and Habva looked at one another. She was pushing them to the top of the operation. This was the first they heard of it. Hanala did not want to do it, Vaerhit was antagonistic to the project, but he surely had to know that there was no turning back now. Utala was in a strange mistress position of Rommel. Hanala did not know where she would stand.

Father and Halid'Zorah looked furious. Both of them looked like Hanala had just taken a stock of a rifle to their collective abdomens. Hanala stared stoically back at them. She had made her decision to stand against them. She would not budge now. She would argue her case to Utala'Falan and Vaerhit. They would vote her way if she woke them up to what she was seeing.

"You're usurping your own Father's judgement?" were the words spoken by Admiral Vaerhit, his head tilted slightly as he stared incredulously at her.

Staring at her Father uncomfortably, Hanala nodded.

"I love my Father, but I will not stand with blood when their priorities are clearly in the wrong. Admiral Jarva is driven now by hatred of humanity and will not see reason that they can grow as a species," Hanala said as she held her directed gaze to her Father, her expression softened until she turned to Halid, adding. "Admiral Zorah is displaying the telltale signs of lusting in the power base he has built. He has intimidated, bullied, manipulated and even murdered for this project. He is playing messiah, prophet over the human element of the conspiracy. All of this is forgivable, if it were not for his inability to relinquish control over the humans he claims to want to help."

Halid flew out of his seat; he stormed down the aisle until he was standing next to Hanala. He did not look at her. He focused on the three remaining Admirals. Hanala, however, kept her glare focused on him. He was a smart man, who charmed many, but that did not make him a good man.

"This is preposterous!" he said, his voice growing higher. "This is clearly Hanala abusing her new power to allow Joachim Hoch to cut his ties and obligation to our work. Her personal relationship has blinded her to why Joachim Hoch is with us in the first place. So I will remind her."

For the first time, Halid turned around and focused his hard glare on the junior Admiral. Oh… Hanala knew this look. She had seen it once before last year, from that Prussian Gerd von Rundstedt. The way he thought of Hanala as some sort of lesser creature. Joachim had to assure her that the expression was a standard greeting given by the East Prussian Junker Elite whenever they found themselves in the presence of lesser Germans or foreigners.

"Admiral Jarva, are you aware of what the number 5,836,164 means to him? That is the number on his Nazi Party Identification card," Halid pressed on. "Joachim Hoch is a card carrying National Socialist. He is a card carrying National Socialist trying to redeem himself from a path he loved and yes, he has made remarkable steps, but he's still a National Socialist; whether he acknowledges or not. His work for us clears his name…. Hanala, see reason. Imagine National Socialism as a disease… a cancer. He's having a lapse, he's in remission now but that does not mean it's gone. How long will it be until he goes back to old ways?"

Hanala could not believe what she was hearing. Joachim wasn't going to rebound. He hated what he was and wanted out. He wanted out. Joachim was never going to be the same Joachim who was speaking about hiding away from the life he used to live.

"Go back?!" Hanala repeated as her anger surged. "Redemption or not, they are obligations you pushed on him in the most harmful ways possible. Forcing him to witness the deportations so bluntly was foolish. Yes, it needed to be done, but both you and Father went about deprogramming him in a fashion that destroyed nearly everything for him. Coercion through guilt is simply not a healthy motivator for change!"

She snorted in disgust; she stepped past Halid to look at the three Admirals before her.

"Not long after a nearly three month stay in the hands of the secret police, who tortured him the entire time. Instead of providing him any sort of mental healthcare after the fact, you instead hand him over to Heinz Guderian and Erwin Rommel, under the guise of a simple position as a military attaché," she pressed on, looking to Vaerhit, who sat, there enraptured from what he was listening to. "But it was not to be, No. Instead Guderian drafts him into a command position, when he was clearly in no position to be there Algeria, let alone fight. From your track record, you knew that those two soldiers would use him like that."

"All of this was for one reason and one reason only: to boost Joachim's infamy as an ambitious soldier, so that you could use him as your closest asset to the Führer. Officially, you spoke of abduction, a fair trial for Hitler and eventually the rest of his inner circle. Privately you whispered things into Hoch's ears through your proxies, Rommel and the Prince. In your place, they permitted a second option to be chosen, the favoured option. Murder Adolf Hitler, and you want Hoch to be the weapon."

Hanala paused for a moment.

"I will not lie. I like that option, I truly do," she freely admitted to them. "There are very few in this galaxy whom deserve a summary execution, Adolf Hitler being one of those men. The thing is, as much as it might seem right, it is still morally wrong. This was not lost on Joachim, who has expressed repeatedly he cannot kill this man. It's not out of leftover loyalty as Louis Ferdinand had suggested to him. It's because Joachim recognizes he's no longer the same man that he was when we met him. All that he wants is for you, in command, to do the right thing."

Hanala trailed off as she looked from her Father's apparent indifference, Vaerhit's hands curled together, his expression soft, almost understanding and then to Falan. She looked guilty, and rightly so. It had been her and Rommel who had made the suggestion of murder to him.

Exhaling, Hanala turned back to Halid'Zorah, his arms crossed as he looked at her carefully.

"He's sick and tired and just wants out, Halid," she added quietly, just to Halid and not to any of the others.

Halid remained unmoved. Hanala had to hand it to him. Halid was a stronger man then she had expected him to be. He remained dead silent; the narrowing of his eyes was all that she needed to know. He wasn't intending on budging on the matter at hand.

"He made his pact, daughter," Alaan called down from his seat. "He made it when he said he would serve so that he would be cleared of his National Socialist identification. Not long after, he then delivered Kaltenbrunner in exchange for the Langer's after orally agreeing with Zora-"

"He joined through coercion, the agreement for the Langer's was made by someone _MENTALLY TRAUMATIZED_ , an agreement made by a man terrified, absolutely _terrified_ of losing the only family has left!" Hanala cut through her Father's statement. "A family he still could lose for doing the right thing. It was an agreement made because you forced him into your conspiracy which will endanger everyone he's ever loved. He's down there right now as we speak, doing as you asked and not what you implied."

Hanala paused for a breath and to let her words sink in. From here it looked as though she was actually making a dent. Vaerhit was nodding his head in concurrence. Admiral Falan was silent, but she was not as hard looking as her Father and Zorah were. Perhaps she was contemplating what her new authority would entail. With her strange mistress status to Rommel, she could easily influence the other Wehrmacht commanders to provide him more support.

"Since he has already begun his duty at the Kehlsteinhaus, why not show him an ounce of empathy," she concluded. "When he comes back, cut him loose and end his involvement with the last stage of your plans. He is of no further use to you."

Hanala went silent. She watched as her Father was suddenly surrounded by Vaerhit and Falan. It only took a few moments before Falan turned to address her.

"Admiral Hanala'Jarva vas Bismarck, I request that you step out of chambers so we may discuss this."

Staring hard at Zorah for a moment, Hanala nodded. Bowing her head slightly, she stepped out of the room to allow the private club to whisper in secret once again.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

"Oh no! **_Stasi_ **come back! Please wait here for me!"

"I could retrieve him."

Joachim watched as Eva waved him off. She bolted after her barking terrier, leaving the second one in Traudl Humps care. Resting one hand on the rucksack strap Joachim turned back to the two other women, both of them suddenly and inexplicitly nervous under his focus.

"She's very… _airy_ …" Joachim spoke, struggling to find the right words to describe this Braun woman.

Next to Constanze, the woman nicknamed Traudl giggled at the observation spoken aloud.

"She's sharp as a knife. She just doesn't like to show it," Traudl said as she turned away from the woods and back to Joachim. "Any woman who could stand up to the might of Frau Magda Goebbels and come away mostly unscarred is not without her own talent."

Silence fell for a moment. Quietly Joachim watched as Constanze started patting her jacket, then her trousers almost franticly. Knowing exactly what she was doing, having done it himself since he was about fifteen, Joachim reached into his overcoat and pulled out his cigarette case. Calling her name out, Joachim tossed the case over to her outstretched hands.

She pried it open, but did not take a cigarette right. She squinted as she leaned in to look at the inscription engraved inside the lid.

" _'To Gerhard, a friend and patriot to our beloved Fatherland –GA AvT',_ " she recited as she took the cigarette and handed it back to him.

"It was a gift for my grandfather. It was presented to him by Großadmiral Alfred von Tripitz," Joachim explained as he pocketed his case and retrieved his lighter for her.

Lighting up Constanze's cigarette, he stepped back from her, ignoring her wandering eyes focused on him.

"Eva said we would be working closely together," Joachim spoke, breaking the awkward silence. "What did she mean by that?"

Traudl looked up from Negus, ceasing her stroking of the animal's fur.

"Minister's Goebbels and Speer will be busy working on a project together with the Führer; and I imagine Frau Goebbels and Speer both need some time off from their broods," she explained, looking somewhat resigned by what she was saying. "We'll be shimmied into taking care of the children whenever they need it. That's twelve children. And that's not including Herr Kaltenbrunner and his twins. Think you can handle it?"

Seriously doubting Ernst Kaltenbrunner would allow him to tend to his children, Joachim merely shrugged and offered Traudl as cool and as charming smile he could possess. He wasn't blind to what Eva was doing. She was trying to find him a wife. But this had its advantages. If he got close enough to Traudl it could lead to more frequent interaction. With Constanze, he could have access to whatever the Führer needed. He could drug Hitler into submission and take him.

No, he would not brood about what his life had turned into. Silently, Joachim decided he was going to revert back to Joachim between the age of 18 to 23, a raging sex driven killer, confident and not scared to shake things up, chasing every woman he saw with a pulse and a pretty face. Yes. He would use every woman he saw to get what he needed done. He would apologize later if he was caught by the woman who was trying to tame him.

Slowly, that devilish smile crossed his mouth, widening his look to almost a leer that caught poor Traudl off guard.

"I've had to babysit Italian officers," he admitted, his voice dropping a full octave lower as he stepped forward to loom above her. "If I can keep them from wetting themselves, I think I can rear children."

From behind Traudl, Constanze burst out laughing at what Hoch had said so casually to them. Traudl could only smile weakly as Joachim stared her down.

From the way Traudl suddenly covered her mouth, it was apparently working.

"Y-you will need to be very, very careful Herr Hoch," Traudl warned him, her words serious despite her sudden stuttering. "The Führer does not permit insults to our allies, especially when Count Ciano will be gracing us with an appearance... W-what I meant was actual child rearing. Have you done it before?"

Joachim did not blink. He was surprised he could still make a woman stutter.

"More than enough experience, Fraulein," he reassured her as he watched her bite her lip, thinking about all the Langer children and the numerous times he was placed as a caretaker to them, "you know… I could inform them that I can tend to all the children when I have spare time. I'm not the one on vacation, it seems wrong you have to work."

His offer must have caught her off guard, she bounced slightly, her face red. Joachim could not be sure if it was the cold or shy embarrassment.

"That's… _ahhh_ … that's very kind of you. I-I couldn't impose," was her stammering reply, "B-besides, when it comes to the Führer, one can never expect much of a break."

The conversation was broken up as the rustling in the woods caught them off guard. Joachim's hand fell to the grip of his holstered Walther as he squinted. Out of the woods came Eva Braun. On the leash was Stasi. Joachim released his grip and ignored both Constanze and Traudl staring at how close he was reading to pull his pistol on her.

"Stasi had to shit. Sorry!" she apologized as she hopped over a snow bank like a hare.

" _Sharp as a knife?_ " Joachim whispered Traudl's words back to the secretary.

All Traudl could do was laugh.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _"Albert Speer!"_

A bundle of blonde, wavy hair covering his eyes caught the Minister of Armaments off guard, just as much as the crushing force of Eva Braun's arms wrapped around him.

"Eva, I trust you are well," Albert got out as he wiggled his way from out of her grasp. He did however, allow her to clutch onto his hands.

Eva nodded sweetly.

"I mot certainly am. This place looks so wonderful!" Eva spoke as she looked all around the main ballroom set up. "Thank you ever so much for having this place prepared, you as well Frau Speer," she added as she noticed Margarete finally. "Over there is Joachim Hoch by the way. JOACHIM, COME ALONG!"

Coming down the hallway to the gathering in the converted main lounge, stood Joachim Hoch, his peaked cap under his remaining arm. Next to him was Fraulein Gertraud " _Traudl_ " Humps, a new member of the Führer's typing pool. She was a sweet thing to everyone and very nervous about her new job, but the Führer liked her well enough. Being a Munich girl gave her the advantage.

"I am aware," he spoke to Eva as he turned to look at Hoch as he stopped in front of the minister, clicking his boots together in place of a standard salute.

"Welcome to your assignment. This is my wife Margarete," Speer added, taking Hoch's hand and then gesturing to his wife, who nodded. "May I have a word with you Standartenführer?"

Joachim Hoch remained silent as he nodded and followed Speer out through the party and out onto the stone patio. Closing the door behind them, Hoch pulled his peaked cap back on.

"Be mindful of Eva Braun," the Minister warned the disenchanted rising star of the Waffen-SS. "She's the loneliest woman in Germany, and as such she can be very... _reckless_ when she's alone. If you were to befriend her, the Führer would be greatly appreciative. I made him aware that you are happily married to a woman named Hannah. That you would not do… do anything with her."

It took a full minute before the implication became apparent. Speer watched as Hoch's eyes grow twice as wide as he finally understood. Eva Braun was not just a pretty face. She was the Führer's.

"Wait a second…" Joachim nearly stammered, shooting looks over to where Eva was speaking adamantly to Margarete, "the Führer… he's courting her?"

Albert smiled and nodded.

"Well yes… Courting is a bit of a strong word," Albert elaborated for the under soldier. "They are seeing each other."

He paused, and turning his smile into a smirk

"What?" he asked the young SS man. "Are you surprised that Adolf Hitler is capable of having feelings?"

Tearing his eyes way from Hitler's mistress Hoch shook his head.

"No… It's just… with _her_?"

Speer chuckled; oh he certainly could appreciate the bewilderment belonging to Joachim. When he first understood why Eva was so close, he himself wondered the exact same thing. It took a relatively short time for him to fall for Eva's sweet charms. Albert genuinely cared for her. So much so that he would spend what spare time he could fine with Eva so that she did not have to be so alone. Hitler, an intensely jealous man, was quite alright with this interaction.

Their friendship was solidified when he had gotten so bothered by Eva's depressed moodiness that he converted several rooms in the Reichstag into an apartment for her, so that she could be closer to the Führer, as well as provides him a place to go without suspicion. Eva was completely overjoyed with the gift.

"Any word from our masters?" Hoch spoke up, breaking Speer from his thoughts.

Albert arched his eyebrow.

" _Masters_?" Speer repeated. "Oh yes, Admiral Zorah told me all about your displeasure with your situation. Yes, at this point, your assignment is on February 6th. The Admirals are unaware that it is poor Eva's birthday on that da-"

Eva stepped forward, breaking the conversation between the Miniser and the Waffen-SS man. Her eyes were bright.

"The Führer has arrived," she breathed to the two them. "Come, Joachim, you must meet Him!"

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

"About time."

Shoving hard past Admiral Zorah that her light frame made the bastard step back, Hanala planted herself in front of the waiting Admirals. She had spent the past forty or so minutes waiting on their judgement, and now here it was. Father was about to speak. Not wanting to hear it, Hanala raised her hand.

"Spare me. I don't need to hear your positions to know where you stand," she snapped, turning her attention to Vaerhit.

Vaerhit nodded.

"I concur with Admiral Hanala'Jarva –although too emotionally charged for my taste - she brings up a most worrying problem the two of you have," Vaerhit spoke, standing from his seat. "This assignment has no credibility; the rest of the Earth will know it the moment we show up on Earth pretending we aligned with the few rational of them to stop a genocide. Let's be honest. We only care because of the negative public image once the council races realize what we are doing and what sort of totalitarian mad men we begun uplifting. This is all just damage control."

It was hard to believe it, but Vaerhit was right. All eyes turned to Admiral Falan, who stared down to Hanala. She appeared to be pondering what do. The answer that same was not the answer Hanala had expected.

"Your heart is in the right place, I sympathize with you. But I cannot do that," Falan spoke, her words like a punch to the gut to Hanala. "I made promises in which I intend to keep. I will stand with your Father and Admiral Zorah. Now is not the time for flinching. Not when this is our final push. You have much to learn about leadership still, Admiral Jarva."

As soon as the youngest Admiral was about to raise a protest, Admiral Falan raised her hand.

"You make the assumption that I would jump for the chance of leadership. I don't want it. No sane quarian wants it… no offense Admirals," she said, looking to the two men she slighted added, "Your Father has had the patience of an asari Matriarch and you have not seen the work of Halid'Zorah as clearly as I. You have no inkling of the sheer effort it has taken Halid'Zorah to get us to this point. He has had to moderate all manners of rivalries and argument offered by the Germans. He's had to amend the plot so that we wiped the Nazi government off the face of this planet, rather than a slower burning collapse like originally planned."

The other female Admiral turned from her to look on her male counterparts.

"I will recommend that Hanala's concerns for her partner be addressed. I do agree with her that we must show empathy to him. I have seen it first hand and he is not what I consider of sound mind for active service," she addressed them, all of them before rounding back to Hanala once again, adding, "But here is what Halid hasn't told you: Joachim Hoch is in a unique position to assume control over the SS-Reichssicherheitshauptamt – The Reich Main Security Offices - once Ernst Kaltenbrunner is in exile. All it will take is an attack on the offices in order to kill or capture one SS-Gruppenführer and Generalleutnant der Polizei Heinrich Müller, a close associate to Kaltenbrunner and Heydrich, who is dying this very moment to the implantation rejections."

"Hoch will assume command of the RSHA and force the police to stand down and arrest Heinrich Himmler, As well as anyone else we see fit," Zorah amended on Falan's behalf.

Hanala could not believe what she was hearing. This was… no… this had to be a cruel prank played on Joachim. That was it. It was a stupid way to mess with him even further. Looking into their faces, however, spelt out a different story. They were all serious as the grave.

 _Ancestors_ … they were being _serious_.

"You want to use the German police, as well as their secret police to start arresting people…" she breathed, only barely audible to the other in the room. Huffing out a laugh, she pushed her hand through her hair as she took a step back, adding. " Putting a victim of the Gestapo in charge of the Gestapo…all of this provided by Ernst Kaltenbrunner... _**ARE ALL OF YOU INSANE?!"**_

The Admirals did not flinch at the suggestion. They remained standing there coldly, paying no attention to, what Hanala assumed, was the soul voice representing common sense.

"Your vote occurred. It was 3-2, Admiral. Joachim will do as he's told," Zorah stated as he went to join his colleagues. "This wasn't some game as we go along, like you're so fond of doing. This plan is endorsed by Ernst Kaltenbrunner and has been worked out on our behalf by Minister Speer since his capture. Hoch was right, he's not stupid. He wants to live, so he's providing us with the keys to the Reich. Hoch has to be the one turning the lock."

"I told you, Hoch is psychologically sick and you accept his professional judgement at face value!" she nearly screamed at them. "I cannot believe you're putting trust in that maniac, Kaltenbrunner. Forgetting what he did to Hoch, He's jailed hundreds of thousands without due process; He's drastically increased the efficiency of the concentration and extermination camps, He killed two quarians, one of whom with his _teeth_ right on this ship! And not only do you want to work with him, you all seem quite alright with it!"

"That's quite enough!" cried out Admiral Falan, now clearly biting back her annoyance. "Hanala, we appreciate your candour and your willingness to stand for something you believe in. Joachim Hoch will remain on assignment for as long as we need him. We will, however, provide him whatever he needs for a stabilized mind."

Hanala wasn't through, not by a long shot. Not even when her argument turned to mush. Not even when she knew this was pointless.

"That will not be enough! He's running on his last legs. He-"

 _ **"OH WILL YOU JUST SHUT UP!"**_ Her Father roared down at her. No longer in his seat, he was standing, his hands in tight fists as he glared down at his daughter.

The room went dead silent. All of Hanala's fight and argument no longer bit back. It left her trembling with shame and humiliation. Her Father, for the first time ever had raised his voice, put her in her place like she was being a pathetically embarrassing child. With all her restraint summoned, she forced her tears back

Next to her, Halid huffed, his mouth smirking as he turned from her, victorious, and went back to place at her Father's side.

"It will have to be enough, _acting_ Admiral," Father pressed on. "I am assigning you to a new detail. You will be in charge of the Langer extraction as well as our science team from Austria. Prepare a team and be ready for it in the next few days. Are we clear?"

Hanala did not reply. She focused all of her rage and formed a mask to hide her shame from the four of them. With a glare that could put Joachim Hoch to shame, Hanala looked up and met her Father's almost regret filled gaze.

"I will not forget this..." she spoke, devoid of all emotion. "When all of this unravels, I will not need to say I told you so."

Taking three steps backwards, Hanala turned and left, wiping her eyes dry as soon as she stepped out of the chambers.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

"My Führer, may I present to you your new chief of security, Standartenführer Joachim Hoch," the Propaganda Minister excitedly introduced silently introspective Führer. "This young man is the hero of Aguni Lahwa and Bouïra. His guile destroyed an entire American Armoured Division in a day long battle. He himself only had a battalion on hand. His efforts have earned him the Knights Cross of the Iron Cross with Oak Leaves and Swords as you can see. He is only twenty five as of a few days ago."

Standing at attention in front of a room of gawking civilian, political and military men was not a cause of concern to Hoch. It was old news really. What did cause him to sweat was the silent Führer, his piercing hypnotic eyes never leaving Joachim's.

He looked different then the last time he saw him, late June 1940, greeting the troops that had stormed through the vanquished France at a speed no man in the world had ever dreamt of since the thought of invading and conquering France became popular since the rise of Napoleon.

No, today he looked tired and reserved, like he had the whole country and the fate of the German people resting on his shoulders. Even if that was the case, it did not erase the sheer power to which he commanded over the room.

"How long have you served?" the Führer finally spoke.

"1935, I was emancipated, then six months into my service, I was chosen to attend SS-Junkerschule Bad Tölz, top ten percent of my class," Joachim informed his Führer, "I fought the war since the first day; Poland, Netherlands, Belgium, France, Yugoslavia, Russia, Libya and finally Algeria, My Führer."

The Führer's nodded politely.

"There's no need to be so formal," the Führer reassured him gently. "When did you lose this?"

Joachim was only faintly aware of the Führer touching his sleeve where an arm had out to have been.

"Italian Libya, February 1942," Joachim informed the Führer, who was listening most intently. "An English commando unit attacked my probe; our assignment was to explore the possibility of a Waffen-SS deployment to the Africa Front. The English threw back one my men's grenade. It exploded and turned the limb useless. We were too far from an aid station, so I had my soldiers remove it."

"Yet, you continued to serve after the loss of limb," the Führer gently pressed.

Joachim nodded gravely.

"Yes, my Führer."

For the first time since he met the boss, the Führer appeared to have allowed a look of satisfaction to cross his expression. It was more than that. It was a genuine display of pride. Pride for the young man who had apparently wasn't turned off by his disability.

"I believe I warned you about that formality, my son," he spoke plainly.

Joachim was moments away from stammering out _'My apologies, my Führer'_ , when he noticed only the faintest trace of a smile that crossed the Führer's mouth. Ignoring the dozens of eyes watching the interaction between the Führer and the war hero, Joachim clicked his boots together and simply inclined his head.

"You have my apologies, Herr Hitler. I admit I'm more than a little struck..." Hoch answered the boss, forcing his nervousness to be suppressed, and replaced with as much confidence as he could muster. "Yes, I recovered and went back to help stop the Anglo-American offensive. Loss of limb is no excuse to stay back from the war. Everyone must fight. We cannot lose what we shed so much blood to gain and keep."

The answer widened the expression of joy that was on the Führer's stern face. For the first time in a while he was not plagued with the ongoing disaster occurring in Russia. He was being granted a chance to discuss the success against the western adversaries.

"You destroyed nearly ten thousand men, captured two thousand men and the entire command staff. You provided the Abwehr a firsthand look at the American arsenal by capturing large quantities of vehicles and weapons rather than abandoning it like many in your position do," the Führer listed off like he was a machine being fed the after combat report. "You succeeded, despite handicap and odds. You have shown the foe what fighting confident German men will entail, should they stand against us."

Patting Joachim's hand, the Führer let go, turning his focus to the room as a whole.

"Let this young man be an inspiration to you all. He is one of my most shining examples of how a soldier must conduct himself on the battlefield and back in the Reich. A merciless ability to press the fight, no matter the how overwhelming the foe might be," he announced to the room. "If only I had a hundred of you in charge at Fortress Stalingrad, cowardice in the face of Bolshevik evil would cease to exist."

As the room clapped in concurrence with the Führer's praise, Joachim cleared his throat.

"If I may speak freely, most of my Kampfgruppe were made up of Sixth Army survivors…" Joachim said, only barely managing to keep his respectful tone in place. "I can only hope you meant no offense to them. 148 of my 288 dead were from the Sixth Army. "

The Führer bowed his head. It seemed as though he was recognizing the loss.

You misunderstand, my young friend," he amended without so much as a bat of his eyelids. "I'm speaking of the incompetence of the command staff. Not the endless valour displayed by the men. I was an enlisted man myself. I have seen the horrors incompetence the military elite of Germany inflicted on my fellow soldiers. The Officer class of the Heer is quickly showing their irrelevance. The fighting man deserves more. They deserve men such as you. I mourn for them, as I mourn for all German sons and fathers whom have laid their lives down to project National Socialism across this continent and into the wild wastes of the Russian steppes, but they died defending their people. There is no greater way a German can leave this Earth."

Clasping his hand once more, the Führer stepped back.

"Goebbels, Speer, Jodl, Keitel and Kaltenbrunner join me in my office," the Führer spoke as he turned from him at long last. "Fraulein Humps, I would like you to takes notes. Everyone, settle in and relax."

Shooting a kind look to Traudl as she stepped forward to join the Führer and the rest of his closest associates, he suddenly felt a hand fall onto his shoulder blade. It belonged to Speer. The Armament Minister offered him a faint smile and a nod.

"Congratulations, Hoch. He likes you," was all Speer said as he left to join the Führer, leaving Joachim to release all the tension caused by shaking the hand of the monster he once cared for.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Morning came and so did Joachim's first official day as the head of Adolf Hitler's entourage's security.

It started at five in the morning. Plagued with restless sleep, Joachim was up, exercising to clear whatever drugs that were left over in him for the past usages, an hour later he was, bathed, shaved and dressed for the day. Completing the day's paperwork, he was personally driven down to Berchtesgaden by the Führer's chauffeur, Erich Kempka for an inspection of the two thousand man garrison of Hitler's personal guard that had moved into the town only a few hours ago.

It was just past eight before he got back to the Chalet. Still most of the entourage was asleep. The only ones waiting for him was Traudl Humps and Constanze Manziarly as well as the kitchen staff, all of whom were preparing breakfast… more likely a brunch for the men, women and children in their care.

One by one the vacationers woke up and stumbled to the main dining hall for their breakfast. Joachim had been surprised by their daring. He had thought that they would wait for the Führer before they served themselves, but according to Traudl, the Führer kept late hours, he usually slept in as he worked best at night.

That was a strange thing to hear, that the Führer would not sleep proper hours.

It was nearly noon before the Führer was up and out of his room. He was surrounded by the Goebbels children with Traudl in toe. In his arms was the youngest child, three year old Hedda, who looked at Joachim's pinned up jacket sleeve most wondrously. Noticing the stern, uncomfortable looking Hoch and the Führer clasped his hand onto the younger soldier's shoulder.

"As I was told, you were bothered about everyone starting before me. Not everyone is used to starving like you or I," was all the Führer had to say to relieve Joachim of his stress. "The last thing we should want is our friends to wither away."

It was one before Hitler finished his lecture with Jodl, Keitel, Goebbels and Speer about the latest performance review regarding the MP-43, how he was still concerned with the production drain the weapon might have been causing. Speer suggested idly inquiring what Joachim thought about the weapon.

Having been the first to use the prototype last year, then outfitted for a full Kampfgruppe. Joachim, naturally, was quick to praise the firearm. The automatic rifle was a large reason why Aguni Lahwa was successful. Nearly every man had been armed with it and it by in large negated the numerical superiority the American infantry assigned to the Armour Division had.

He must have been too technical in his explanation of all the important advantages the weapon had over the enemy; his voice must have been too forceful with enthusiasm. He looked up and found two ministers, a Generalfeldmarschall, a Generaloberst and the Führer himself staring at him.

"No wonder you suggested him for this job," the Führer spoke to Speer and Goebbels with a hint of amusement in his voice. "He's your spokesman."

The room laughed at what he had said. Privately, both Speer and Joachim were thinking the exact same things. Fifty-five percent of the MP-43's production was occurring in a quarian factory on the moon, as was nearly sixty percent of the ammunition. If only the Führer knew it wasn't divine intervention, but it sure was close to it.

By 1:30 Joachim was pacing back and forth of the doors leading to Adolf Hitler's offices. Inside were Jodl, Keitel, Goebbels and Speer. All of them discussing something, all he got from Speer was that Goebbels and him were going to make Hitler see reason and commence a state of Total War for the Reich. Hitler might have been on the verge of being disposed, but to have him support this plan before the attack commenced would be a sign of legitimacy, and would force Goebbels to pick a side: Either by his Führer, or on the side of security for the Reich.

That was half an hour ago and his hundredth pacing lap around the waiting room. It was already clear to Joachim he wasn't built to be idle.

Ready to begin lap one hundred and one, the sound of a clearing throat caught his attention. It came from just outside of the waiting room and was located in the lounge adjacent to it. Frowning Joachim stepped out, there sitting there was a woman, her back turned, in front of her were cards laid out.

"I beg your pardon?" Joachim spoke finally.

All that Joachim heard at first was the flipping of a card from off the deck and then it was placed down on one of the card rows set up.

"You're making me nervous, Standartenführer," the woman called out, her eyes remaining focused on her game of Patience. "Why don't you join me? I can assure you, playing cards with me will not get you in trouble."

Joachim stopped his endless loop around the room and turned to look on the woman who was given him permission to relax.

Magda Goebbels. Joachim had to admit there was a time in the thirties that he would have killed to be in her presence. That feeling had not eroded much; she was the definition of Germanic beauty that disregarded the laws of aging. At her age and seven children, she looked no more than thirty and hadn't heard of the word children.

Yes, Joachim was in a relationship, but that certainly did not mean he was blind to the icy blonde, decade older, bombshell that turned her attention to him.

He paused for a moment to give his head a metaphorical shake. Now was not the time to be gushing over this woman. What was he, an oversexed teenager?

Obliging Magda, Joachim joined her on the seat opposite of the couch she was sitting on. She had gathered the cards up and was shuffling the deck. Her expression was blank, distant, like she had something on her mind. She was probably thinking about her eldest son, or perhaps she was focused on her work for the war effort.

Magda found a way to for women to revel in the past and look to the future at the same time. She wasn't just talk; she led German women by example. She was a mother, who worked in her spare time in a Telefunken plant, building radios and electronic parts. He had even heard the rumour that she used public transportation to get to her part time position, a strange concept for a woman considered the First Lady of the Reich. Joachim had been tempted to ask when out of nowhere Magda dropped the cards and grabbed his hand, bringing it up for close inspection.

"You have smoker's fingers," she observed with the faintest of smiles. "Forget the cards and follow me. Bring your cigarettes."

Glancing at the door where he could hear the buzzing of talk still coming from the Führer's offices, Joachim turned back and nodded, digging into his pocket to grab his cigarette case. He stood, waiting for Magda, who grabbed what appeared to be a container of breath mints. She stood up and together, the two of them moved across the room.

Opening the veranda door for Magda, Joachim joined the out onto the snowy balcony. Magda for her part looked unaffected by the sudden chill. She turned back around from the view to focus on Joachim, who handed her a cigarette, then waited patiently for the amputee to light it on her behalf.

Nodding a wordless thanks to him, Magda turned back, taking a drag as she looked on the scenic vista of Berchtesgaden in the far distance below them. Lighting up for the first time in the past day or so, Joachim followed Magda by example as he inhaled his own cigarette, keeping a respectful distance from the woman. From her posture, Joachim found himself suddenly reminding him of Lene. Not surprising considering how much Lene gushed over the woman after a brief encounter back in '38.

Magda's free hand patted the railing next to her. Exhaling, Joachim took careful steps forward to join the woman.

"Tell me about yourself. Where do you come from?" she inquired, exhaling smoke lowly as she leaned on the railing.

Joachim eyed her up. He allowed a short laugh to escape.

"I could give you many answers for that one. The last thing I would ever want is to bore you," Joachim said his fingers pulling the cigarette from his mouth.

For the first time, Magda looked at Joachim dead in the eyes. There was a strange expression on her face. It was interrogative at first. It appeared as though she was looking for some sort of lack of resolve behind his words. It was as though she was seeing if he would have a realization of just who she was married to and would immediately apologize.

Well Joachim was beyond worried about the likes of Joseph Goebbels. As far as he was concerned, he was dead or he was out of the party. He might as well be a little daring.

Slowly the interrogative look vanished; replacing it was a knowing smile. As though she was thrilled with how little he told her and how powerful it sounded to her.

"A word of advice, as flattered as I might be to be a focus of a young man's charms, you should be careful about turning your charisma on me. Joseph is a jealous sort…" she warned him, turning her full body around to properly focus on the much taller man. "What I meant was where were you born?"

Joachim's grin widened.

"Kiel," he stated as he dropped his cigarette over the balcony.

Magda nodded approvingly.

"An honest to goodness raised on the sea, North German," Magda praised, still smiling at him. "That's very good stock to come from. Born tough as nails, unlike the softer, south Germans... I was born in Berlin myself. What of your family? I trust they have a lot of pride in you."

Joachim smile did not falter at the mention. He only shrugged.

"They are thankfully dead. Mother and Father were socialists of the worse sort," he admitted without a moment of hesitation. "I could not stand either of them; I left to join the SS, then the party when I was old enough."

Magda stared at him for a good long moment. She shifted hips as she dropped her dying cigarette over the balcony, imitating him. She looked… impressed.

"I am glad to hear you are so honest about the stains in the family. Few are so honest these days," Magda finally said, without so much as batting an eyelash at how frank he spoke. "I am also glad to hear you were so quick to cut ties from them. A good National Socialist knows that the state comes first when you dedicate your life to the Party."

Joachim laughed nervously.

"To be honest, I'm surprised to even be here, considering my family ties," Joachim spoke, stretching out the truth somewhat. "I just sort of stumbled into it. I've been re-evaluating a lot of my life recently. The past few months have seen like a dream…. Well… more like a nightmare. I don't think I'm made for it."

Joachim wasn't sure why he was saying this. Perhaps the old crush had loosened his tongue, perhaps Magda gave him the impression that it was alright to let a small bit of his constant guard. Whatever it was, it just felt… good…

 _"Be not afraid of greatness."_

Joachim looked up and found Magda privately smiling as she continued to stare off.

 _"Be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them,"_ Magda quoted as she turned back to face Joachim once more. "Remember those words, my new friend. Born into adversity and rising above to break your shackles before great evil could be implanted in you, Bringing great victories to the Reich so swiftly in the face of disability, And through destiny sent to capture the Führer's ear when he needs a man like you the most at his side. Yes Herr Hoch… I think you are a shining example of when all three greatness's collide-"

Magda fell dead silent, her grip around the balcony railing tightened as she drooped her head. Suddenly she shuddered violently, her throat forming an unnatural sound cry. It looked him like Magda was in pain, but she was battling it from making itself known. But what could be causing it?

It looked like a toothache from where he stood… or perhaps Joseph had hit her at some point. His hands curled up into balls. Well, one of them at least. It felt as though his missing hand had done the same. If that was the case, and Magda was being... well… then Doctor Goebbels would be dead by the dawn of the next morning.

Forgetting the image of splattering his brains out, Joachim stepped closer to Magda, who looked close to tears.

"Frau Goebbels? _Magda_?" He whispered, taken aback at how quick whatever had happened, happened.

There was no verbalized response.

There was a low whimpering coming from the woman once again; still her head remained bowed, both her hand resting on both sides of her face. Joachim narrowed his eyes as he bent to on knee before her. Touching his fingers against her chin, he gently pulled her head to the side of the face that hurt the most.

"What are you doing…?" She demanded, her tone not matching the authority she was trying to produce.

What Joachim was trying to do was search for bruising, potentially covered up under her makeup. There was no sign of any mark against her skin.

"I'm… I'm sorry for the question in advance, and I do not mean to pry unless I have a good suspicion," Joachim spoke as he let go. "Magda, does the Minister hit you?"

For the first time since the sudden outburst of pain that Magda exclaimed, she gave the semblance of returning back to a state of normal. She looked weary as she simply stared at Joachim carefully, questioning why Joachim would say what he said. Her expression curled down into a frown.

"What? Dear God no; he knows better than to hit me, especially if he wants to keep his career alive," she stated flatly as her hand rubbed back and forth against the side of her face, "I-I apologize if I scared you, it's just a silly migraine I get on occasion."

Magda breathed unsteadily as she looked up. "This was light in comparison. Let's just… Let's just go inside. Please?"

Joachim nodded wordlessly, he followed the wincing woman back to the French doors, pushing it open and allowing Magda to limp in first. He followed, closing the doors and then led the woman back to the couch. She slumped into the comfortable seat, her hands gingerly wrapping around her face – the source of where her pain was coming from. Joachim could hear her moan under her breath. She did not want to look weak.

He felt somewhat stupid for his concerns. It was just this thing he had. A married woman in pain which was concealed was grounds enough for Joachim to assume it was the husband's doing. This wasn't the first time it was awkward, but certainly not the worse incident. That dubious honour had belonged to _'The Incident of 1936'._

 _'The Incident of 1936'_ was strange incident. Coming home to the Langer's on vacation break from SS-Junkerschule Bad Tölz, he had found Lene hunched over in her room in agonizing pain from what he had immediately assumed was devastating punch to her abdomen. In response, he found Gerald in the backyard and punched hiss lights out in one hit to the side of his head right in front of poor Helena.

He really should have hung around to listen to Lene first.

As it turned out, Lene had been about eight weeks pregnant with Hilde and hadn't yet told Gerald because of how fragile the early pregnancy had been. Her doctor wasn't sure that the foetus would service into its third month. Sprawled on the grass lawns of their Munich home, surrounded by his wife, children and attacker after spending a full thirty minutes out cold was a strange way to find out you were expecting child number three.

Shaking his guilty memory to the recesses of his mind, Joachim was about to sit down when Magda suddenly cried out once again, hissing. Cancelling any thoughts of relaxation, Joachim was back up and at her side. Offering his hand to her, she took it, squeezing his hand tightly as she rode out the next sudden jolt of pain.

"Can I get you something, Frau Goebbels?" He inquired, suddenly feeling quite helpless. "Should I find you some codeine and a glass of water?"

"Yes, that would be for the best, thank you," she spoke unsteadily as she nodded her head. "Tea if Constanze has made a pot... a little cream, no sugar…"

Pulling his hand from hers, Joachim nodded as he stepped back and marched in the direction of the kitchen. The moment he entered, Joachim found Constanze standing there waiting for him, a cup of prepared tea in on hand, a bottle of what appeared to be codeine pills in the other, and an expression of sympathetic concern. Clearly she was aware of what was happening.

"I heard her from here," was her explanation to why she was so well prepared. "The doctors say it is something wrong with all of her nerves in her face. "Basically the nerves spasms, then they cause shocks that can go on for hours. Like a migraine, but worse. If this worsens, she's going to have to be sedated and put on bed rest for the rest of the day. Please keep an eye on her."

Offering Constanze a nod, a smile and a word of thanks, Joachim took the pills, teacup and saucer from her and with all the care in the world, stepped out of the kitchen, only pausing for a moment to allow two sentries to push by him, both of them freezing to offer him a salute, to which he was in no position to return in any form other than a nod.

As he once again entered the lounge, he found Frau Margarete Speer sitting on the edge of the coffee table, whispering what sounded like comforting words to Magda, who was half leaning on the couch arm. Both women looked up as they heard Joachim's jackboots steps sharply across the marble flooring.

"My apologies Frau Speer, I will get you a cup as well," Joachim spoke as he stopped before for Magda, the tea cup and saucer outstretched to her.

"You needn't wait on me, dear Standartenführer. I'm here checking up on Magda," was all Margarete had to say as she pressed her hand against Magda's forehead like she was a child. Magda smiled weakly as she accepted the cup, setting it on the table as she waited for Joachim to hand her the medication next.

A knock on the wall near the entrance of the door caught Joachim, Margarete and Magda's attention. Standing there was Eva Braun, dressed in a fur parka and her, smiling slightly as she clutched onto a leash, holding back the German Shepherd, Blondi, her tail wagging back and forth.

" _Hoch_?" Eva spoke, her voice the epitome of sweetness. "I could use your help. Blondi needs to be walked and the Führer is in meetings. I think she's a bit much for me to handle solo in this weather."

Joachim looked from Eva, to Frau Speer and Goebbels.

"Do not worry about Magda, Herr Hoch. I'll tend to her," Frau Speer assured him.

"I'll inform the Führer of your new task should he end his meetings any time soon," Magda murmured as she swallowed her pills. "Just… try to keep Eva out of trouble... Though, I would not cry much if she were to tumble down the mountain side…"

Joachim smiled slightly as he patted her forearm. He felt a little awkward, doing so, but it was done.

"We'll continue our talks once you are feeling better… if that is something you would like," he assured her, to which Magda nodded.

"I would like that, Hoch," Magda murmured. "Thank you for your company…"

Glancing to Margarete for a moment, Joachim straightened himself up, turning around to join the nearly impatient looking Eva. She held the leash out. The moment Joachim took a grip of it, Eva let go and waved most impetuously to the older women before dragging Joachim right out of the lounge.

The moment they were alone and walking the halls to the nearest exit, Eva's smile dropped to a scowl.

"I could have done this myself, just to let you know; I just figure I would save you from that dramatic _slag_ ," Eva spoke, her voice indignant as she spoke about Magda. "Poor, sweet Frau Speer is more than capable of sparing you from the likes of that dog… no offense Blondi."

Joachim looked distastefully at Eva as she reached down to apologetically pet the German shepherd's head. With as much tact as he could summon, Joachim swallowed his pride as he choose instead to remain silent. He knew better than to change a woman's opinion on another woman. If he was being honest, at this point he preferred Magda's company over Eva's.

Before he knew it, Eva had looped her arm into Joachim's. She looked up to him with the wildest, most endearing smile he had ever seen.

"Come along, Joe… Can I call you Joe?" Eva questioned him, a grin on her face. "My sister is here. She's dying to meet you, Joe. I hope you like brunettes. It seems like only brunettes are still single around these parts."

Joachim groaned.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: Clean up. Angst Extermination two extra scenes removed.**


	9. Last Days

**Chapter Nine: Last Days - January 30th – February 5th, 1943**

 **…**

Hitler's mood had turned for the worse. Everything and everyone had been overshadowed.

It started in the early morning on the 30th of January. Generalfeldmarschall Keitel came into the dining room with a telegram from the front. The last airfield in General Friedrich Paulus' hands had been taking by the Soviets. The Soviets were now only a few hours away from forcing final capitulation. It was not surprising to Hoch, but to the Führer, he was desperate. Hoch had overheard him issuing dozens of field commissions, going so far as to promote Paulus to Generalfeldmarschall.

He did not seem to understand these gestures were futile. An army could not survive solely on praises and promotions. Not without food supplies, not with medical transportation, not without ammunition or fuel. For the first time Joachim was exposed to a side of the Führer that he never once imagined he would he: desperation.

He looked so helpless, so lost. His great plans to kick in the Bolshevik nation by humiliating the Soviet dictator had simply not worked, and now came the deathblow to the 6th Army. It was only a matter of hours… days at the most.

A hushed silence fell around the Kehlsteinhaus as Joseph Goebbels and the Führer had left the safety of the chalet, rushed down to Berlin for the day, and gave the annual Party anniversary speech at the Berlin Sportspalast. At the end he exhausted the herculean efforts of the 6th Army as a final tribute to the dying fighting force. Not sticking around, Führer was back at the Chalet by midnight and was pacing about in his private chambers until the early morning.

Less than seventy two hours later, the announcement came blaring over the Soviet propaganda radios, which were intercepted, translated and sent back to them. Friedrich Paulus had signed surrender terms to Marshal Zhukov. It was all over. The Russians had destroyed an entire army and were now cheering in the streets for their astounding victor over the Reich; it was now undoubtedly on the wires boasting to the west that they had delivered the first real bloody nose to the Wehrmacht.

To Joachim this was unbelievable. A million men marched in, one hundred and thirty thousand escaped. The rest were killed, missing or captured. Joachim could not comprehend how this had happened. Then again… this was a long time coming. Wandering into that Soviet shithole was a terrible miscalculation.

The people of the chalet were in shocked disbelief. Some were even openly weeping at the terrible misfortune. The civilians and the Politicians went to the highest ranking Wehrmacht men for answers; answers that could not be provided just yet. Even Joachim was not spared the prodding when he had free moments. He wished he could tell everyone what he knew, but he knew better than that.

Besides, by the time the second of February arrived a special guest had shown up. It was none other than Generalfeldmarschall Erich von Manstein. He had flown from his tattered Don Front all the way here as quickly as he could. Joachim knew better than to assume he used human transportation to get here. However he arrived, he arrived in the same emotional state as when he heard the news first hand. He was in a state of fuming rage.

For the next hour, Von Manstein proceeded to scold the Führer. He cared not for the Führer's position, nor the gasps of the many civilians and politicians who still viewed the war behind rose tinted glass. To both Hoch's horror and delight, he explained what losing eight hundred thousand men, nine hundred aircraft, fifteen hundred tanks and six thousand artillery pieces had done to his campaign.

In short, for the first time in his professional political career; someone had gone out of his way to publically embarrass, shame and humble the Führer. Judging from the tears flowing from many of the inner circle, they could not believe this aristocratic soldier had shattered their Führer's illusions about the war.

 _"I warned you,"_ VonManstein breathed, as he opened the briefcase he brought along; _"I warned you right from the start that this diversion was going to lead to this mess. Your venture, then refusal for withdrawal has caused this mess, Herr Hitler. We could have reached the oil fields of the Caucasus by now. Glory is not an adequate resource. Glory will not fuel our tanks, feed our men nor end this war sooner! Resources are what we need. We needed resources first and foremost! Bomb Stalingrad; turn that city into ash if you feel so convicted about erasing it off the face of planet. That I can get behind, but to have personally ordered a capture? Now they have won, the Russian is no longer demoralized after almost two years of failure. Now they are mending. You have made my spring offensive into a terrible gamble!"_

Pulling a document out, he presented it to the Führer, who took it and started to read it silently. Erich von Manstein however would not have it. He recited what he had written.

 _"Directive A15b is as followed:_

 _1/ General withdrawal of all Axis forces from contested regions to a tightened defensive line 200 kilometres in the west._

 _2/ Withdrawal of all minor Axis military powers from the front and sent back into the occupied territories for occupation duties: They are not trained in the same matter as the German. They need constant supervision and their inability to hold the flank has resulted in the disaster. Wasting German armaments on substandard troops was a terrible practice that must be brought to a halt._

 _3/ Total mobilization of the civilian population for the war effort: If they cannot pick up a rifle, they will pick up a welding torch and work in a factory instead. There will be total rationing for all citizens of the Reich; there will be no more luxury industries, no more wasteful restaurants and nightclubs, no more resources blown on women to make them pretty. Everything goes to the front. No exceptions._

 _4/ Minister Speer will prepare an efficient garrison system for occupied Western Europe, so that a sufficient surge in men and supplies could be directed to the east._

 _5/ The Wehrmacht as a whole were not to be interfered with for the next six to eight months. The Führer shall be briefed and allowed to sit in for the strategy plotting, but he shall not have the right to override the Luftwaffe and Heer in any command decisions and that would not happen until preparations for a spring offensive had been made._

 _6/ Hermann Göring was to be stripped of all command presence for the Luftwaffe for the next year as punitive actions for his failure to properly manage the Stalingrad airlift and for the disaster that was the British air attacks._

 _7/ The unilateral end to all drastic SS sponsored retaliatory actions against targets that are not Partisan in nature. All Waffen-SS units located inside of Russia in an occupational capacity are to be deployed on the front lines. All civilian security branches would be sent back to the occupation zones_

 _8/ Permission to mobilize the one and a half million Russian and Ukrainian volunteers wanting to destroy the Soviet Union, but were denied since the beginning of Barbarossa and allow a provisional Russian Collaborationist government to be created for the purpose of overseeing all liberated Russian affairs so that the Wehrmacht was no longer fighting with a hand tied behind their back. "_

As he finished digesting what the Führer was reading the list out loud, Joachim could see quite clearly what this was. This was a combination of plans set up by the Prussian aristocracy and the quarians. And by quarians, he meant Zorah and Alaan'Jarva. It appeared to him, they wanted to rub their intentions in the man's face before Joachim slit his throat in the metaphorical sense.

There was no fight in the Führer, which surprised Joachim the most. He had heard the stories of the clashes between the Prussian military elite and him, who viewed himself as the voice for the common soldier who suffered under the Prussian system in the first war. No, it appeared that the Führer was like Joachim. He was done with the war. Probably not for long, this was likely a state of shock; but it was enough of an opportunity for Von Manstein to stand there and finally force the Führer to stay out of his way.

In the end, the Führer signed the directive in ink and a silent 'of course'. He handed the papers to Von Manstein and left the breakfast table in silence, ignoring the crying coming from many of the women in the room. Behind him were Goebbels and Linge. Most likely off to console him.

Manstein stayed no more than thirty seconds longer in the room. Looking at all of the delicacies, the butters, the breads, the meats eggs and cheeses, he snorted in sheer disgust as he snapped his briefcase up and pulled on his peaked cap.

" _Most of you leeches should be ashamed of yourself; eating in luxury while contributing nothing to the war effort, while some poor Soldat is starving and freezing in Russia for you,"_ he turned his lecturing rage to the men and women gathered in the room; _"Enjoy your breakfast and leisure. I am going back to the front. I'd sooner risk death then spend a day here."_

With that Von Manstein left, leaving the occupants of the chalet in a state of shock.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Leading a troop of fourteen children: six Goebbels, five Speer's and most surprisingly, three Kaltenbrunner's, a request made by the wife of Ernst, Elisabeth. Joachim, walking at his side next to him, Traudl Humps left the Chalet elevator and convinced the children that they would have some fun if they organized a little snowball war.

This was all very hush, hush. Magda Goebbels absolutely refused the idea when Helga made a suggestion, to which all the children agreed to. Joachim, not immune to having fun quite yet, had loudly decided in the elevator that he would organize them all into two teams. One the good guys: The Germans, the other, the bad guys: The Americans.

Unsurprisingly, everyone wanted to be a bad guy.

Well, Joachim would not give a denial to them. Loudly he lamented that he had to take the children on by himself, successfully convincing poor Traudl to join in as his back up.

"Standartenführer, I should like to have a word with you."

The voice belonged to Generalfeldmarschall Erich von Manstein. He was standing by his staff car, a cigarette in hand. His sharp eyes did not acknowledge the children, or the woman standing with him. He was clearly in no mood for a friendly manner for their benefit.

Joachim glanced to Traudl, who nodded and held onto Helmut's hand as she led the children down the winding road to the battlefield, leaving Joachim free to join the Generalfeldmarschall.

"You and I have mutual interests. Let's talk," Von Manstein called out as he opened the closed top staff car's door for the younger man.

Joachim obliged, he climbed into the vehicle and waited for Manstein to join him.

"Considering you came up here with a list of demands that clearly look like something Halid'Zorah put together, then yes, I imagine we do share a connection," Joachim commented idly as Manstein closed the door behind them. The statement made the Generalfeldmarschall bark out a laugh.

"Yes, Zorah feels that this situation could be exploited," Erich von Manstein agreed, his mouth split into a mild grin. "Have the Führer sign off on orders to make it look legitimate to hold outs."

Joachim nodded and turned away. Just as he thought was the case; more trickery as usual.

"If it makes you feel better, I commend you for taking, not only the moral path, but the correct course," Manstein spoke up, exhaling smoke. "Those who wish Hitler dead are short sighted reactionaries. They assume Hitler will inspire others in a last desperate gambit. If anything it will be quite the opposite. Put him on trial before Germany and every man and woman, even the children shall see how twisted and pathetic he really was. It will bring great shame to Germany as we wonder why we allowed him to rise to such a high plain. To the world it will completely discredit National Socialism."

He paused for just a moment.

"Killing Hitler will turn him into a martyr," he murmured. "Killed at the behest of foreign alien invaders? It will not look good."

The Generalfeldmarschall took one last drag of his dying cigarette.

"No… Whether they realize it or not, the quarians need to build a new image for Germany and a first impression of them by providing genuine justice through a legitimate criminal trial for as many of the National Socialist Party as they can gather after the coming purge," Von Manstein continued. "It shall be a trial in which they will stay out of. It will be a trial by Germans, for Germans. Anything else will sour their arrival and may make the world an even worse place then it already is."

Joachim remained silent.

"There will be many in the conspiracy that will hate your choice -probably primarily drawn by the reactionaries and extremists in the Black Orchestra sect. Men like Claus von Stauffenberg," the Prussian pressed on, as he pushed his cigarette out the window of the car. "But do not worry. Do the right thing and you will have a made an advocate and friend out of me. I heard of your moral and ethical dilemma with continuing military service, that the quarians will want to hang onto until the bitter end. I assure you I hold more sway than most with them. Capture Hitler, and you'll be free of all obligations. You have my word upon my very honour."

To say it was strange for Joachim to hear the oath sworn by Manstein would have been an understatement. It felt like some great, old warrior was swearing fealty to him, a peasant in comparison.

"The thing is, the oath is to the Führer remains in effect, even as he is held in our custody," Von Manstein continued his voice almost reluctant. "Since you have chosen to keep him alive, as we speak Heinz Guderian is being deployed to just outside of Berchtesgaden, where we have mobilized what remains of the Sixth Army. Under the guise of patriot duty to protect the state from a mad man, they will attack the town and lay siege to this chalet. They will obliterate this place and everyone inside of it. If the fighting does not escalate or when the SS capitulate, Hitler shall be brought out to face the world."

Joachim felt his mouth unhinge by its own doing. No… this wasn't… no! This could not be the rationale going on behind the closed doors of the conspiracy. They weren't just talking about military offensives against legitimate military targets, they were discussing flat out murder! Joachim did not sign up for this!

"But… there are children, women in there," he said weakly. "You cannot just kill _everyone_..."

The Generalfeldmarschall did not flinch as he heard the truth.

"I'm sorry; the right choice makes this decision the only viable one," he snapped back. "Hitler needs to appear to be killed for the sake of securing total Wehrmacht loyalty, who would then in turn re-establish the Kaiser back to the head of state. You were not told because quarians felt you to be too… emotionally unstable to know the truth. I'm not sure just to secure the Führer's signature; I came to tell you as well."

Emotionally unstable: Yes, that was a term Joachim considered more than fair to be used to describe him. But emotional or not, it did not interfere with what he knew was write or wrong. He knew, as should have anyone with a conscious should know, that what this was, was criminal. Even if the logic was sound as Manstein explained it to him, it was still criminal in his eyes…

"Then I have not much of a choice, do I? I kill Hitler, I save everyone here, but risk the future, I do the right thing and dozens die to cover it up," Joachim managed to find enough words to articulate; "You couldn't have tricked Hitler into signing a new oath? You have an entire spy network and you can't even forge a signature?!"

Joachim had expected the Prussian to backhand him, or say angry words in a matter not dissimilar to that of Rundstedt about a year ago. No, All Manstein did was stare at him wearily.

"Boy, you will find in the life you have chosen as an officer, there are very few easy decisions. Now, you may have started your career serving as a servant to Hitler, but to me, and to many other men -men of high ranks and positions - you are now serving Germany proper," he explained to the disillusioned SS Standartenführer. "But service to a proper cause does not mean your choices will be any simpler. Life is rarely fair. In the short term, this is going to hurt you. Therefore you must think long term. Taking Hitler and exposing his malice for the German people will save countless people from destruction in the future. Not only is the attack a show of force that will prove this goes beyond a few angry officers, just how would it appear if our great patriotic uprising was a farce to the world? Won through trickery?"

"It is a farce! This isn't a patriotic uprising; this is us seizing an escape from responsibility before it's too late!" Joachim reminded Manstein, his voice high with disbelief. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Joachim forced his voice to remain calm as he added. "There are still good people here, Herr Generalfeldmarschall. Traudl, Constanze, the other support staff… Good, honest people, whose only crime is accepting a paycheque for service to the Führer. There is very little in the way of National Socialist ideology in them, and now you want to… what? Kill them with artillery barrages for simply being associated?"

"Minister Speer is organizing an escape for much of the staff and servants."

Joachim rolled his eyes as he pushed his hand over his face.

"To save his own neck," he dismissed. "What about the more dedicated National Socialists here? Do they die simply for being associated as well? What about the Goebbels? Magda, Joseph…"

Joachim went deathly silent as he looked into the empty expression written on the Generalfeldmarschall's face. No… _no_ … Zorah and Alaan were bastards, but they would never issue an order if they knew how many children were here…

"What about their six babies? You're going to kill six little babies. At the very least putting them in harm's way?" Joachim sound his ability to speak once again, his voice more accusatory then it should have been to the only person in the conspiracy that was speaking plain to him. "And for what exactly… make a false flag attacks appear real?"

To his credit, Erich von Manstein appeared uncomfortable by the query. It seemed that like him, he too found what was going to happen, a hard act to justify in itself. He might have agreed with the quarians that it was a necessary evil, but that did not mean he thought it was right. Excessive civilian death went against the sensibilities of a Prussian military man of Manstein's stature. This was especially true when they knew they could prevent the casualties in the first place.

As quickly as his the doubt crossed the Prussian's expression, it was gone. Once more he was back in control. Still, Hoch would not forget the expression anytime soon.

"Yes," the Prussian finally spoke. "I'm sorry, but the answer is yes. As I said before, life is rarely fair. It will not be as though Guderian will target the family, they just need to be there. If they live, they live, if they escape, we won't chase them, if they die…"

Joachim stared at him, his expression filled with a vile disgust at what he was hearing. This was wrong, this was so utterly wrong… How could Zorah even think about something like this, let alone actually deploy a general and twenty five thousand troops to the region to do it already!

"Meanwhile they make deals with Kaltenbrunner," Joachim grumbled, staring ahead, digesting what he was hearing.

Erich von Manstein breathed heavily.

"You ought to know by now that sometimes, evil escapes into the night unpunished, untouched," Von Manstein spoke nearly sagely. "The world is an extremely messy place and history even more so. But just because he escapes now… that doesn't mean he escapes later."

Manstein's words were comforting, sure, but they weren't working on Joachim at the moment. Everything about this was leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. This plot was growing less and less moral but every passing second… Sure, they were battling against a great evil that had existed for far too long, but what is it wise to battle evil, with evil?

"You'll forgive me if I think this is wrong," Joachim muttered mutinously, silently checking off another issue he was going to have to take up with a certain quarian Admiral on his shitlist.

Manstein nodded his head gravely.

"You and I both, Herr Hoch."

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

This evening was now officially a disaster.

As much as she might have been annoyed by the wedding talk, Eva Braun was still more then excited enough to serve as one of the bridesmaid. She was even ready to give a small little congratulatory speech to the happy couple. Her, an orator… Adi would have liked it.

Unfortunately, at the last moment, the Italian delegate, led by Count Gian Galeazzo Ciano had shown up early to the chalet, bringing gifts from Milan for the new bride and intending to stick around for the wedding. A request the Führer agreed to. It did not need to be said what happened next. Like Pavlovian training, she told Dara that she would not be able to attend and wandered past the Führer, back to her room.

He did not so much as even look at her.

That had been in the late afternoon, it was now past five and lying here, on her bed, wrapped up in blankets like an Egyptian mummy, she was currently evaluating her relationship with Adi for the thousandth time. She had no tears to shed about the flippant behaviour of his, but she still was certainly embarrassed.

After all these years of loyalty, it still felt like the Führer was ashamed of her…

Pouting as she rolled onto her back, she was suddenly surprised by a knock on her door. Eva did not bother replying. If it was Adi, she would not be talking to him for the rest of the night. But again, the door knocked, less urgent then she would have expected. It was a polite sort of knock.

"Fraulein Braun, may I come in?" a gruff, low voice spoke on the other end of the door.

Blinking, Eva decided to unwrap her blanket covered body as she pulled herself from out of bed and wandered her way to the door. Opening it, she found Joachim Hoch standing there in the doorway. Behind him was a trolley with two plates loaded with dinner, glasses and a bottle of unopened Champagne. He wore an expression of sympathy for her. It was clear that Joachim knew exactly what was going on.

"Oh, hello Herr Hoch," she greeted him glumly. "What are you doing here? Did they kick you out because of how you look? Perhaps they did not want to be reminded of the war."

She instantly regretted her words. It felt as though she had just slapped him across the face. To his credit, he remained blank faced about it as he laid out a dinner setting at the small table in her room. Biting her lip, she joined him, helping him out with setting the place up for the two of them. She should not have said that to him…

"I figured you could use some company. Marriage ceremonies are boring, and frankly it's annoying to see all those happy faces," Joachim admitted to her, his voice distant as he handed the bottle over to her to uncork. "I figure I could spend some time with a likeminded friend. Figured we could have a two person party.

Eva softly laughed, she did like that idea.

"Oh, I am so sorry if I came off as rude when you're being as sweet as pie to me," she apologized, looking up to his vacant expression; "I'm just… I'm frustrated. Do you know why I'm not out there?"

Taking a seat at the table, she picked up her fork to pick through the vegetarian dinner that had been prepared for her. She looked at Joachim's huge steak dinner with great envy as he too sat down, just opposite to her.

"Wolf feels that having me in the open might present a sign of weakness to people he might not trust," Eva spoke, paying no attention to Joachim surprise usage of Adi's nickname. "As such, I must remain invisible. I was going to be a part of the wedding and everything until Count Ciano and his delegation showed up."

Joachim tilted his head.

"Could you have not just been out there by Herr Hoffmann's side? Be there on a work related business?" he questioned. "Certainly the Führer would allow that."

Setting down her fork as she swallowed her salad, Eva shook her head as she reached for her glass instead. Quietly she watched him eat for a few seconds before she dragged on the conversation.

"I tried, Wolf thought it too much of a risk," she admitted.

"I'm sorry he feels it necessary that to lock up a pretty thing like you," Joachim said as he finished swallowing his mouthful of steak. "Perhaps one day he will think twice about his policy. Having a wife or woman at your side isn't a weakness. It's a sign of trust, of commitment. Strength in two I suppose. I'm sure Germany can handle the Führer being a married man..."

Eva smiled behind her champagne glass. She did not expect to find a man who this positive about women. Usually men in the Party viewed women as little more than play things or nuisances. Here sat Hoch, praising the different sorts of strength women possessed. It was peculiar. Peculiar but very much welcomed by her.

"Be careful the way you talk," she warned him, her voice filled with good humour for him. "Progressiveness towards women might get you in trouble around these parts."

Screaming erupted from just outside of their room. Joachim nearly looked ready to attack when the screaming turned into giggling, then a second voice, a male muffled. The door banged hard as two people hit it. Eva rubbed her neck as she glanced to Joachim, who appeared bemused; his hand was resting on his gun still. He might have been progressive, but that did not mean he wasn't like all men in uniform, ready to shoot someone over something as little as protecting a girl.

"After everything that happened to those poor boys in Stalingrad, I imagine everyone partying is all trying to forget it," she mused as the screaming vanished. "Do you think we can recover from this blow? So many men died… I know Wolf is a genius, but everyone makes mistakes. Even him, right?"

She watched Joachim's face scrunch up. He appeared to be debating what she was saying in his head. Looking for the right answer, he probably wanted to be respect to the Führer, but that wasn't what she was looking for right now. She wanted to know from a soldier who had spent years out there fighting for her and the rest of Germany.

Downing his champagne in one, Joachim set the glass down, and idly watched her as she poured him another glass. Liquor was always a good way to loosen a tongue.

"Yes, he did make a mistake," Joachim spoke, his admission only slightly surprising Eva. "Some people's mistakes are considerably more severe than others. Manstein was right to issue those directives. The Führer has been at the helm since the first day of the war. Even he needs a break."

Eva nodded wildly; she was in complete agreement with him. Wolf needed to take time off from the war and now Von Manstein and the Generals were proving him with a respite. Wolf hated the thought of weakness d receiving such a kindness, but he had to take the offer.

"And yes, Eva, We will recover from this blow, do not worry about this," Joachim pressed on, smiling slightly as he sipped his second glass of champagne more carefully this time around. "This was but a single blow, the first serious blow in two years of war with the Soviets. We have been lucky so far. This was bound to happen at one point or another."

Setting the glass down, Joachim went for his cigarette case. Like the gentlemen he was, he held it out to her before he took one. Looking longingly at the offer, Eva allowed a small shy smile to cross her lips as she took one and waited for Joachim to light her up. It had been quite some time since she had one…

"Manstein's shaming got to you rattled, didn't it?" She heard Joachim mutter as he light a cigarette for himself.

In between exhaling and inhaling another drag, Eva nodded her head. Yes, she was very much ashamed of Erich von Manstein's lecture. They were here while millions of men were out there. Fighting and dying for them. Being here… it just seemed so wrong to her now…

"Yes, he sort of... I don't know... he made everything real…" she admitted to Joachim, her voice low with vocalized shame. Pausing for a moment, she forced herself to smile as she added. "They're not really going to stop production of cosmetics, are they? It seems so wrong…"

Eva burst out into a wild giggle as she watched Joachim choke on cigarette smoke as he heard what she had said. Slowly, he too managed to get a laugh out as he finished his dying.

"Don't worry, you'll survive," he assured her.

Eva smiled. Yes, yes she would.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

After bidding a very intoxicated Eva Braun a goodnight, Joachim closed the door behind him and did his best not to stumble too much.

He drank more than he had planned to. Eva was a very sweet and charming girl. They talked about everything they could get their hands on: From the war, to family, to very unnecessary descriptions of the Führer, to her goading him into teaching her some English. An act he tried to do, but failed. They both had far too much to drink to be adequate student, nor teacher.

Rolling the empty cart back to the kitchen staff, Joachim left it there and wandered away, saluting the men under his command, who were currently playing cards and eating leftovers for their break. One of them racked a joke at his expense about his inebriated state. He had turned back and shot the man a hard stare. The moment the Rottenführer released his boss was glaring at him, he shot up to attention. No… not just at attention, he was trembling in fear.

Joachim gave him the full work over, how he was a shame to his uniform, how if he had his way, he would have sent the Rottenführer off to the front. Them at the very last moment, Joachim cracked a grin and told him that he was shitting him. Gerald Langer hated commanders who abused authority in the SS. This wasn't the Wehrmacht; it just wasn't how things worked in the Waffen-SS. So Joachim followed his example. Now... had this been at the front it would have been a completely different story.

Leaving his men howling with laughter at the great humiliation caused by making the Rottenführer stutter, Joachim left, nodding to Frau Speer and Fraulein's Gretl Braun and Constanze Manzierly as he passed them by, his intentions to find somewhere out of the way to smoke in private. He knew exactly where as well, the usually abandoned deck near the Führer's offices. It was private place where he would get away once a day for an hour or how every long he could spare.

Although it was usually abandoned, that did not stop one visitor from showing up, asking for cigarettes to smoke with him.

Magda Goebbels and him had grown rather close in past few days. Like the conversation with Eva tonight, the two of them talked about just about everything they could get their hands on, with exception to the war other than her asking about how he lost his arm. On occasion Magda would bring a treat or two, It usually cam in the form of some sort of dessert or drink to share together. Although he knew better than to drink, today was the first day in three weeks that Joachim had seriously hit the bottle, and at least it wasn't alone.

Yes. It was nice to have the escape in Magda. It felt he was interacting with a mirror image of Lene Langer. It was just the sort of thing he needed to help suppress all of his doubts, though it did not help much to find her so dedicated to the Führer. When it all went down, it would be another friend who would leave.

Another issue was that he was now emotionally attached to his new friend and her very beautiful, very charming children. It was that attachment that hurt him the most this past day after Manstein told him what those quarian bastards were planning on doing. Risking their lives for a lie that would be debunked soon enough… It was so wrong.

Perhaps he could do something about it. Warn her the morning of the 6th that she should escape or something… Take her children to the town below the getaway and surrender to Guderian. It would be better than the alternativ-

"You weren't at the wedding, Herr Hoch."

Joachim's eyes turned. Sure enough, standing there in front of him, her hair down and in a black shirred dress and white open cardigan stood was Magda Goebbels, her head tilted to the side as she looked him over. In one hand a bottle of half empty Champagne bottle, the other a couple of glasses. Smiling slightly, she turned around and walked away. He could not help but notice there appeared to be an extra-long roll of her hips as she glided away.

God help him, Joachim decided to follow her lead.

"I wasn't," Joachim spoke out as they walked together down the empty hallways of the chalet. "The Führer requested I spend the time with Eva, so that she wasn't as lonely as she could have been."

As they stepped onto their balcony, Magda turned her head to allow him a ghost of a smile. Joachim nearly lost all mental abilities. Where the hell was this coming from?

"That's very thoughtful of him to think of her. It's just as noble as how were so quick to help…" Magda purred, sending shivers up his spine. "…so willing to sacrifice leisure time to spend time with the likes of her. Whatever the case, I saved some of this for you."

Joachim's eyes darted from the woman to the bottle.

"I-I better not," He managed to get out without sounding too stupid; "I already had a few drinks."

Magda pouted.

"Isn't it rude to deny a drink from a friend?" Magda continued on, unbothered as she set the two glasses on the stone railing. "Come… it's just one drink… It won't hurt a big man like you..."

Watching her as she popped off the cork, Joachim's eyes wandered down her arched over spine, stopping just as her back side. It took Joachim a full mental hard restart before his first real thought blew into his mind.

 _'This was wrong, this was wrong, this was wrong… this was soooo wrong.'_

Yeah. That sounded about right, too bad his brain and body were deadlocked into a state of Civil War. And then came along the second thought to his mind. Much, much more devious than before his sanctimonious thought was.

"-The Minister stuck around for about an hour, just long enough to give congratulations to the Christian's," Magda spoke as she finished poured out two glasses; "He took Helga and Helde with him. Preparing for a rally in a few days apparently, he left me here 'For my health.'"

Joachim snapped back to attention as she turned around, handing him his glass. Perhaps this was an out. He would be more than happy to discuss a troubled marriage and her ailments then to continue where this was going... no matter how much his penis was disagreeing with his brain's logic. Still… both brains inside him did not ignore just how Magda referred to her husband in his title only…

"He's right to be concerned, you know," Joachim finally found his voice as he took the glass from her.

Magda rolled her dark eyes, she lips pushing out in a pout as she clinked her glass against his. Tipping the glass to her lips, she downed the full glass in one go. She smiled brightly up at him as she placed the glass down on the railing once again.

"Joachim, you're sweet for trying to excuse him," Magda praised him, her fingertips grazing his jaw. "But the first thing you must understand is that his concern and using me as an excuse is code for _'I have a new thing on the side. See you soon.'_ "

She trailed off as she took the glass from him, setting it next to hers; she wrapped one arm around his waist, and the other, pushed through the hair on the back of his head. She was too close now for both of their own good, her eyes hooded, lips no more than centimetres from his. He could feel her body pulsing against him, shivering in some sort of powerful anticipation.

"…Well if he's going to play like that, then who am I not to follow by his example?" she whispered, her the tip of her nose touching against his as she stood on the tips of her toes. "It's been a while since I had a little plaything on the side as well… though… this is by far a step up from my last toy…"

Joachim's brain screamed.

It did not matter about internal protests. Not as Magda closed the last gap between them, her eyes closed as she pressed her lips to his. For a moment, just a moment he managed to resist her. The moment Magda gripped him tighter against her body was the moment Joachim lost control. He returned the kiss so hard that the two of them bumped into the hard stone railing,

The two of them laughed for a moment and pressed on, Magda disconnected for a moment, her mouth wrapped around the side of his neck, nearly shocking him as the woman applied more pressure against his skin, her tongue pulsing back and forth.

Joachim's brain screamed even louder.

It took several minutes, but finally Joachim managed to break Magda's efforts from off of him. She looked up at him like the cat that caught the canary. She appeared unbothered by Joachim's sudden action, if anything she was even more intrigued.

"Magda, I can't do this," Joachim breathed, thinking about death, mutilation and his Mother and Father having sex in order to turn his body off.

Magda's grin only widened.

"It's just a little guiltless sex... no one will know..." she reassured him, her voice low, dripping with unfiltered sex as her hands gripped his chest, pushing against the buttons running jacket; "This will just between you and I… our very own secret between two friends. Surely you would not deny a woman like me this…"

In his head, Joachim whimpered. What ever happened to no means no?

" _Mamma_!"

The single high pitched word made the two of them freeze dead in place. Together the two of them untangled from each other and stood up and turned back to the source of the shout. Ah… sweet relief, one of her children was calling her name.

That relief ended the moment he realized who was standing there.

Standing there, little Heide in his arms, stood the Führer. He was frozen in place. There was no humour in his expression. He appeared beyond angry, so angry that he could not even express it in words. If an orator of the Führer's skill was at a loss of words, then it must have been bad…

Unruffling her dress, Magda nearly launched herself into the Chalet once again. She stumbled before The Führer, falling to her knees as she gripped his hand as she burst into a fit of tears.

 _What the hell…_

 _"My Führer, I-"_

The Führer gave Magda a sharp glare before turning his death inducing glare to Joachim. His first instinct was to snap to attention. Silly reaction, but it was all that he had to go on.

"Both of you… my study… this instant," he whispered, his voice forced to remain calm on the account of Heide in his arms.

Both of them were in a state of mortification as they watched the Führer carry Heidrun to her bedroom.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

This could have easily been the most uncomfortable moment Joachim had ever had in his lifetime. It would probably remain so for as long as he should live.

Sitting in a seat next to Magda, Joachim found himself staring ahead into the Führer's sharp eyes. It suddenly felt as though he was a child sitting in the corner of the classroom. No… that would be too light a description. This was staring down the police, the headmaster and his Mother after he cracked Wolfgang Kiesinger's head with a cricket bat when he was thirteen years old.

Of course this time it was different. This was a puritan dictator, who could at any moment order his execution over something as small as him having left a button on his jacket unbuttoned, let alone discovering him pulled on top of his close friend's wife. This was a complete and utter disaster.

If this went bad… Well… It would not be hard to knock out Magda, then wrap his hand around the Führer's neck and simply strangle him right there.

Thankfully however, he was spared murdering the Führer. Out of nowhere, Magda Goebbels burst out into wailing sob and tears, her hands flying up to her eyes to cover her apparent shame. The Führer looked away from Joachim and back to Magda. In a flash his accusing glare had vanished. Without words, he reached into his jacket and produced a handkerchief, handing it over to the near hysterical woman hitting before him.

"My Führer, I _swear_ on my children that this was not his fault," Magda sobbed into the provided handkerchief. "I think… I think Joseph is continuing his affairs. I cannot be for certain, but I just know he is. Joachim Hoch was nothing short of a gentleman to me. He's innocent in this. I pursued him out of my own attraction. He's been better to me in the past two weeks then Joseph has in nearly five years."

Still Magda continued to sob into the handkerchief. She sounded both ashamed and frightened that the Führer would do or say something that would bring great shame to her and him. The Führer looked to him for just a moment. Joachim responded with a curt nod. After several more second, the Führer looked away, turning his attention back to Magda.

"After the last time we discussed this, I gave you the right to an uncontested divorce should you even as much as feel that Joseph is being unfaithful," the Führer replied finally, his voice somewhat softer than before. "You would need no evidence against him, you can just do it and receive half his estate and no one would put any blame on you."

There was another renewal of her sobbing as she dabbed her eyes. She looked up, almost inconsolable.

"I-I know, my Führer…" she stammered out, hiccupping as she crunched her handkerchief in her hand. "I have not forgotten your generosity to me when I was at such a low moment... It's just… I just… I…"

She tried off as the Führer reached over and clutched Magda's free hand for but a moment.

"There will always be a place for you here in the Party, whether you choose to divorce Joseph or not," the Führer reassured her kindly. "You cannot be held responsible for acting out like this, especially if your claim is true and Joseph has done back to his old ways. Women are emotional creatures. They do not handle a betrayal with the same dignity a man would. I absolve you for this."

The Führer looked away and turned his focus to Joachim, who felt his blood pressure raise double digits.

"Hoch, I can only hope that Magda is right," the Führer addressed Joachim at long last. "I know your status as a married man. Infidelity is a vile sin; I trust Frau Goebbels is not simply falling onto her sword for your benefit."

Magda, clearing her nasal passage sniffled, and then shook her head.

"He's not, he tried to resist but I told him to stay quiet. I offered myself to him and he tried to stay away for as long as he could," Magda said. She turned to Joachim and added; "I'm so sorry Joachim, y-you have been such a good friend to me since I've known you. I have mistaken your kindness for attraction, having a male friend is rare, only the Führer has ever tried to be my friend before, so I misunderstood your intent. Could you ever accept my apology for getting you into trouble?"

Joachim nodded his head. To say he was relieved that Magda had some sensibility left was an understatement.

"There is nothing to forgive, Frau Goebbels," he spoke plainly, glancing to the watching Führer, he added. "I could have been clearer with my intentions to create a friendship with you. Could you forgive me?"

For the first time since that were trapped in this room, Magda's face broke into a gracious smile. Like Joachim, she too nodded.

"Very good," the Führer said as he pulled himself from his seat. His movement launched both Joachim and Magda out of their seat as well. "I have to get back to the wedding. Frau Goebbels, the children would like to say goodnight before you join the party again."

Magda nodded wordlessly as she took the Führer's hand, her lips kissing his knuckles and she breathed. "Thank you, my Führer. You stopped me from making a terrible mistake…"

Smiling to her briefly, the Führer turned to Joachim, who snapped his boots together and saluted him. Taking his hand back, The Führer left the two of them alone, closing the door behind him as he left. Wiping her lips off with her forearm, Magda turned her focus back to Joachim.

In less than three seconds, Magda had thrown her arms around Joachim's neck and pulled him in for another deep kiss. It took all of Joachim's effort not to audibly scream out.

"What the _hell_ was that?" Joachim sputtered out as she released him.

All Magda could do was smile widely as she looked up to him.

"What?" Magda said, her tone dragging with thick seduction. "Did you think the Führer's prudence was going to work on me? I figure just a little taste more should hold me over until the suspicions cool down. In a couple days… I can't see why we can't try this again."

Joachim suppressed the urge to scream as Magda's hands grip his trouser waistline. She stepped closer, about to kiss him yet again. This had to stop; this really had to stop before it got out of control. He had to do something before he did something bad, like throw her off… or worse, succumb to the temptations of the First Lady of the Reich.

It was in that moment when Joachim had a plan formulate.

Instead of waiting for Magda to kiss him again, Joachim pushed his mouth forward over hers with a pressure that caught her so off guard that her backside hit the edge of the Führer's desk. It was military and evolutionary tactics personified: Backed into a corner, the smaller opponent has but one option, Feint an attack and then withdraw to survive another day.

Breaking the strain of saliva connecting their tongues together, Joachim pulled back and looked into Magda's glazed over eyes. She was in a state of petrifaction by how powerful he moved against her. This was likely something she rarely experienced before in her life. Slowly, Joachim forced his self-disgust into the slyest of smiles for her.

"Magda, whether we're both married or not doesn't matter, it's not as though I do not want this; my marriage was out of convenience really, as seems to be yours," Joachim said as he pulled his mouth off hers; leaving the woman dead frozen, smirking he added "So trust me, if it were up to me, this conversation would not be occurring and you would be sprawled naked wherever you want to be. If this were a perfect world, you wouldn't walk or talk straight for a month when I was done."

"But please," he tacked on. "for now just consider practicality… if you want this to continue."

Magda blinked, forcing her attention back onto the man now calling her for rationality. She looked somewhat put off with the advice. Joachim first response to her sudden cool down was by pushing his hand through her soft blonde locks. He could feel her trembling against him. It looked as though no man had ever spoken to her like that before.

"Tell you what… Keep yourself in check for the duration of this vacation, and when I am transferred back into general service, and if you're still interested, I'll get a posting wherever you want me to be," he bargained with her. "I could end my marriage… you could end yours one day… We could see if that leads somewhere."

Joachim watched her eyes widened at the suggestion. Silently he attributed this to an exchange of talents between Hanala and him. He taught her to embrace base emotion for results; in return she had seemed to have taught him the value of a well-crafted, well executed lie in order to get his way. Magda was now in the palm of his hand. From the way she was looking at him, she would likely not cause him anymore trouble now.

Thank God that day would never come either… If Hanala found out this had gone any further, she would have taken that giant Cruiser that she was in control of and turned the chalet and the inhabitants inside into dust and fire…

"For now… practicality, _Fraulein…_ " Joachim pressed on, allowing his hand to slide down Magda's arm, until his fingers gripped Magda's. The word Fraulein used making the older woman shiver in anticipation for what Joachim was offering to her.

"Yes it is… until that day..." she agreed at long last.

Taking a deep breath, Joachim offered his arm to her. She accepted, and together they left the Führer's study.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

True to her word, for the next few days Joachim and Magda had mutually agreed to keep a respectful distance from one another.

That was not to say they did not interact, but things between them had escalated. They greeted each other, sat at the same dining table and ate, Joachim, having his ears talked off by Eva and Gretl Braun, Magda, devoted to her children. Both of them ignored the point stares they received from The Führer, who was determined to keep both of them from getting so close again. Joachim assumed with all the bad news from the front, he could use a small distraction.

He was not the only one aware of what had happened. Two others were made aware of his tryst with the woman. One was Minister Speer, who chided him privately for stumbling into the next-to-dead marriage that was the Goebbels. The next one was Ernst Kaltenbrunner. He sat across the table from Joachim. Looking on his children, but flickering his eyes to Joachim knowingly. Hoch could only guess what was going on in his head. In all likelihood, he was probably thinking about the best way to murder him, perhaps with piano wire.

Now, despite the lecture from the Führer, and his firm statement that he used to deceive her, she certainly did not stop from making eyes at him whenever she so chose to. It was apparent to Joachim, that so long as the two of them remained under the same roof, she would be the one in charge of what and how she chose to look at.

Joachim wasn't about to complain about it, least he drew attention for what had happened. The last thing he wanted now was to be thrown out of the Kehlsteinhaus over the matter. It would force him to speed up his plans, and would likely make his job much more violent.

Recently, however, the looks had stopped altogether; Magda had starting having her attacks for the past few days. It had gotten so bad that she could not muster the strength to get out of bed and face the world. Her state was so terrible that the attacks were occurring somewhere in the hundred range. It made Joachim pray for her, an act he had not done in quite some time, especially when Hanala the devout theology hating, atheist was around him.

Today she was lucid enough to approach. As he was serving her breakfast, she requested he take her children out of the chalet for the day. She did not want them to stumble into her room and find her in the condition she was in. Joachim agreed with her and took the four remaining Goebbels children, as well as Traudl down to Berchtesgaden for the afternoon. Against their mother's wishes, and Traudl's trepidation he bought them sweets and teased poor little Helmut Goebbels for the benefit of his sisters. Nothing too rough, just enough to make the girls laugh and help toughen up Helmut's spirit. The boy was soft… like his Father. Joachim was doing Helmut and Magda a favour.

Letting the children play in the small park that was being used as an SS exercise grounds for the duration of the stay, it gave Joachim plenty of time to strike conversation with the younger Munich girl. From what he could see in her, there wasn't much of a National Socialist edge to anything. Traudl paid her lip service as was expected, but to her, being one of the Führer's typists was little more than a job to her, for the means of helping her parents back in Munich.

It did wonders to clear his mind from what had happened not 48 hours ago. He had been very nearly unfaithful to Hanala. It was such a strange thought. Sure, some would consider kissing another woman cheating, nearly undressing another woman infidelity, but not to him. Not in the slightest.

Okay… perhaps it was bordering on the line of cheating.

Perhaps he would have to go back to the professionalism that was instilled into him. Remain a machine like he had been trained to be. Personal interactions were… tricky to say the least. This was especially true when Eva Braun started prodded her sister and friends into his direction, and having Magda Goebbels look at him as though he was some second coming of that Lothario which, by the way, he certainly was not. The very thought of turning into that deviant freak was disgusting as it was.

The thing was, as good as professionalism might have been; it meant a total cut off of communication with Magda. It was something he simply did not wish to happen. It was not out of some sort of base attraction that lured him in. It was… well… it was sympathy. It was clear Magda was not happy; her married was held up only for public image for the Minister of Public Enlightenment's sake. He had built this perfect little family, and as such, it gave Magda the title of First Lady of the Reich. It was title that held Magda where she was.

It also did not help that, for moments, he was reminded of Lene Langer, only in worse health, and a loveless marriage. It just seemed… wrong that she was in this position. She might have wanted it, but that did not give men like Goebbels a blank cheque to cheat and humiliate her.

And yes. There was a time when Joachim saw Lene as a woman rather than a Mother. It did not last long after Gerald realized that the strapping 19 year old Untersturmführer Joachim Hoch was making his wife blush. Hell, Lene was a woman nearing her later forties, but to him, she was still perfection. She was a very good find for Gerald to say the least.

Christ, he had older women issues. Hanala was lucky Joachim never hit on Galina yet.

Anyways, the thing about Magda was that as devoted to the Party as she may have been, it seemed only to the Führer and to no other reason.

Joachim could sympathize. The Führer… he was… well Joachim was trained hard to be loyal to him, but he never had this much personal time with him. The Führer was charming, even likeable considering the disaster of Stalingrad souring his mood. Adolf Hitler was like a Father to every German in the Reich. The thought of what he was about to do to him, it did not sit right. Even jailing the Führer seemed wrong.

Perhaps Halid'Zorah and the soon-to-be Crown Prince were both right. Maybe he did feel loyalty to him. But how could anyone find blame in it? He had been the one to pull the dagger from out of the Fatherland's back after the great November betrayal. He put the country back on track. It wasn't as though he declared war on the West. This war was entirely the English and French's fault!

Ignoring the guilt he felt at the thought that perhaps things weren't that simple, and he was now towing the Party's line, he erased his thoughts and turned to Traudl. Together they gathered the Goebbels children up. He gathered their bags of sweets and told them he would keep them in his jacket; all they would need to do is ask him for one.

If Magda Goebbels was going to continue to sexually harass him and dream about a future that would not happen, then he was going to make her children hyperactive.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

By the looks of it, Magda must have had another string of attacks.

She did not acknowledge the presence of her children. She was fast asleep, her body under the blankets curled into a foetus like position. There, next to her bed was the open bottle of sleep medication. It ended up taking the combined efforts of Joachim and Traudl to pull the children away from their mother and drag them out into the hallway.

"Why is mother still in bed?" complained Helmut, pouting to Joachim as he set down Holde next to him.

Joachim did not have an answer. He did not need one.

"She's a tad under the weather, she needs her rest, but not to worry, she'll be back up soon," a voice from behind the children, Traudl and Joachim. "Go on, run along, and try not to annoy the Führer. He is busy at the moment."

Joachim turned around, there stood Ernst Kaltenbrunner, a surprisingly friendly expression was splashed onto his face for everyone, from the children, to Traudl, and even for Joachim. The Standartenführer did not buy the look for one second. He turned to Traudl, who nodded and took the children to the direction of their room.

"Kaltenbrunner, what can I do for you?" Joachim reminded the man as he turned back to him the moment the others were gone

Ernst Kaltenbrunner held his hands up. It was strange display of peace being presented to him.

" I came here to speak to you, man to man," the head of the RSHA stated to him, his voice neutral as he looked away from Magda and back towards Joachim. "Can we go outside?"

Joachim did not speak to him. He simply turned and headed to the direction of the patio, Kaltenbrunner not far behind him. Neither of them spoke until they were out of the chalet and at the farthest section of the stone and concrete patio deck.

"I imagine you must be getting nervous now," Kaltenbrunner spoke as Joachim went for his cigarettes. "The last day before everything you ever know will collapse, all because of you."

Joachim growled lowly. If he had his machine arm, he'd probably consider tossing the lawyer over the side of the railing and down the side of the mountain top.

"Again, I'm not here to fight you. All that was, was a friendly query," Kaltenbrunner interjected as he stepped forward to join him. "Anyways I want to speak to you about a mutual connection we share to Frau Goebbels."

Joachim must have been on edge. The head of the RSHA slapped his shoulder hard enough to make Joachim stumble in place.

"Oh relax; I wouldn't want to fuck her, only you would stoop so low to sleep with an unhappy married woman…"Kaltenbrunner added before Joachim could respond in anger.

Joachim anger subsided as he carefully scanned for any sign of deception in the Lawyer's expression. There was none, he held his eyes firmly onto Joachim's. If he was being truthful, then yes, his concerns were shared with Joachim. That made him uneasy. To think that Kaltenbrunner and he had shared something in common.

"Joseph Goebbels would be a useful idiot for you to put into your pocket. When you take the Führer, why not take Frau Goebbels and the children he left behind as well?" the devious head of the RSHA commented idly as he leaned on the stone railing. "he could be used to convince the intellectual types into surrendering with little fight. I doubt he holds much concern for Magda… but the children? He adores all of them. Joseph loves them in the sort of way that would make a son of an abusive Communist, such as you envious."

A small grin crossed on to Kaltenbrunner's face.

"It would make sense why you went about trying to fuck Magda, why Gerald figured you would not be above seducing Lene…" he pressed, slowly twisting the knife into the younger man. "All those Father issues… you can't stand to see a decent family dynamic can you? Everything you can't have, you'll _destroy_."

Kaltenbrunner ignored the narrowing of Joachim's eyes. He was having far too much fun at Hoch's expense by reminding him just how much he knew about the Standartenführer.

"As for Frau Goebbels, I imagine you would like to do something for herm" Kaltenbrunner said, snapping Joachim's attention back to him. "Perhaps the quarians have treatments for her, if not I imagine they could at least alleviate the pain she is in. She looks so pathetic, bed stricken like that. One good deed to that woman should help offset the betrayal you are committing."

These words were not lost to Joachim. Yes… He could not just leave her here, but how to convince her…

"She'll never agree to the offer, Kaltenbrunner," Joachim returned as he looked off down to the clouds below. "She is devoted to the Führer and his vision. She's a fanatic… I don't know where to start with her."

"Go back to her room and take a good, long look at her. She's in no state to argue with anything," Kaltenbrunner said. "Hoch, I hate you. After this is all over and you wander into a place I'm living in, I'm going to kill you; you and that ugly quarian cunt that you fuck. Right now I'm putting it all aside for her, you should do the same. Between a weak heart and a neuropathic disorder, I fear for her once everything unfolds."

He didn't get a chance to inquire the man to elaborate.

"What do you think her reaction will be when she wakes up one morning to realize that her entire world was destroyed by a man she trusted so much, she was willing to start an affair with him?" Kaltenbrunner pressed on rhetorically. "It could kill her. Or worse, near unthinkable to you and I… She could harm the children, thinking that her life loses meaning without the National Socialists control of the country. She might… alleviate the children from their lives to spare them the shame."

Joachim blanched at the blatant observation. Magda Goebbels…. Kill her children? The concept was unthinkable, yet the concept didn't seem farcical, it was a genuine possibility if she had nothing to live for after being backed into a corner. In her physical and perhaps mental state… what if she was to do something drastic? He could not possibly live with himself, knowing full well he did nothing when he could have done something.

Since his conversation with Manstein, his decision was solidified. He would go to the quarians. He would barter for the Goebbels lives.

"How would I do it?" Hoch inquired, no longer ashamed of asking this monster for assistance. "I somehow doubt she would get up for me…"

Kaltenbrunner remained silent for several moments. He smiled slightly.

"Have you seen that fat blob waddling around? That obese sack of shit, Minister Speer has been strategically keeping Magda away from?" Kaltenbrunner finally spoke. "His name is Doctor Theodor Morell. He's a slob who tends to the Führer. He has not an ounce of medical ethics to his name. Ever since he managed to worm himself into the Führer's heart, His new primary goal has become the assentation of wealth. The right amount of currency or trinket, and you will buy yourself a doctor."

 _Theodor Morell._ Oh yes, he was certainly warned about him by Speer. He had complained about his stump limb, when the Minister pulled him aside and told him to never speak openly about any discomfort or illness in the Führer's presence, or else he would end up a patient to the quack who once tried treating Speer, who was ill, with a mixture of intestinal bacteria, dextrose, vitamins, and hormone tablets. In reality, all that Speer was ill from was overwork.

His quackery had impressed Hitler, so here he was, providing the Führer with injections Speer strongly suspected had some sort of methamphetamine in them. Joachim, an expert in the drug, knew that was a terrible medical decision for the leader of a fledgling empire.

"If you truly want to not take life, you will require an anaesthetic for Magda, and a tranquilizer to use on Hitler's valet, Linge and Hitler himself of course," Kaltenbrunner suggested. "For the right money, he will not say a word."

Joachim wrapped his arm behind his back.

"Why are you helping me like this? What's your angle?" he demanded to know. All Kaltenbrunner could do at first was shrug.

"Simple," He said. "I scratch your back, you scratch mine. You tell the quarians that I'm no threat. I'm not built for politics and war. I want what you have: a chance to get out, to be a free man."

"You don't deserve that. Not when I've seen what you helped do. You're lucky to get this amnesty as it is," Joachim growled as he shoved Kaltenbrunner's hand off his back. "Whose to stop the millions of pissed off Jews from looking for you for everything you help to instigate?"

Kaltenbrunner looked unmoved by the reminder that just because he survived the coming purge, did not mean he would get off free in the future. If anything, he looked almost amused by the suggestion that the people he was punishing would ever return the favour.

"I imagine those millions of pissed off Jews will not do much," was Kaltenbrunner's slyly spoken response. "Oh yes, they'll cry and they'll sob and they'll wish me dead, but ultimately, I walk out of this untouched, unperturbed. A race of cowards… What is that charming saying? _'A leopard never changes its spots'_?"

Joachim bit his lip, his hand falling to his side.

"Perhaps that is right," Joachim conceded to Kaltenbrunner, shrugging slightly. "Perhaps the Jew will never evolve into people who defend themselves. Perhaps they will always be like cattle to the slaughter whenever someone goes against them again."

Kaltenbrunner was about to smile when he hear a button snap. His eyes fell downwards as he took in the sight of Joachim unbuckling his leather holster, revealing the dark Walther pistol grip to him. Joachim looked up, his fingers gripping the gun, his thumb dangerously close to pulling back the safety lock.

"So… What's to stop me from killing you on their behalf?" Joachim inquired, his voice dropping an octave as his tone grew dangerous. "In about twelve or so hours, I'm going to be betraying everything I've ever known. Why not start early? Why not start with putting two in your chest and one in your head?"

Glowering for only several moments at the threat he was receiving, slowly he looked up, Kaltenbrunner forced his expression into one of cool indifference.

"That one is simple query to answer," Kaltenbrunner spoke, unfazed by the threat, nor by Joachim's hand resting dangerously on the pistol grip. "If I don't report in about an hour, every three hours to Skorzeny, he goes to what's left of Heydrich, and my successor, Heinrich Müller. Like me, Müller does not fool around. He gets a letter with the names of the entire conspirator Wehrmacht officer corps I suspect, and he strings up their families. Innocent, guilty, it doesn't matter to me if I'm dead. What would it matter to me if the Russians rape Germany when all of their treacherous leadership is killed or distracted? Your quarians are quick to intervene, but they are not quick enough to move when the hit squads are already in place…"

Kaltenbrunner stepped forward, still smiling slightly, like the smug bastard he was.

"And what will you tell all those Prussian friends of yours? You got all their families wiped out totally because you couldn't let bygones be bygones? That you wanted to keep some integrity, so you killed me?" Kaltenbrunner queried, his smiling forming into a menacing grin. "All those dead children lay squarely at your feet? How could you live with yourself? Not long I imagine…"

Joachim remained emotionless as the words chilled his spine. Kaltenbrunner had won this round. Knowing he was powerless to stop such mass death if he chose to indulge in what was the right thing to do. Joachim released his grip on the pistol and buttoned the leather case back up.

"I thought so," the Austrian taunted the North German.

"You're a real monster, Kaltenbrunner..." Hoch breathed, shaking his head as he turned away from him; "I don't throw that around often… but right now it's all I have to describe you."

With a magnanimous smile, Kaltenbrunner shook his head.

"I'm no monster. I'm just a man trying to get by with the hand his life had dealt him. So far, I'm doing pretty well," Kaltenbrunner crowed back, unbothered by Joachim's assessment. "You see, Hoch, men like me, we're men not afraid of our own shadows, men who feel no guilt for orders we were issued. We sleep easy at night and concern ourselves with other matters. . I know how the world will view me when I die, and honestly I will go to my grave proud of my work."

Lighting a cigarette, he took a long drag before blowing it into Joachim's face.

"Can you and your righteous guilt say the same thing? Does putting yourself on the cross for people who don't care for you make you feel _better_?" he inquired as he tapped ash onto Joachim's boot, adding. "You are a disposable asset; that's all you'll be to the aliens and Jews. To the Prussians, you'll never lose the image of self-serving treachery. You will always be National Socialist scum in their eyes, not worthy of any concept of status elevation."

Kaltenbrunner dropped his hand onto Joachim's shoulder. He shook the younger man back and forth carefully, like he was speaking to a child.

"You will live frightened of your own shadow, worried if a former SS comrade will shoot you in the back when you let your guard down, or a Jew who assumes you a monster kills you in some twisted sense of justice," he pressed on, his words growing more and more bold. "when you die, the world will not mourn you; and a hundred years from now? Your name will go down in the history books as a coward, who did not stand for anything."

Joachim willed himself not to shudder at the words Kaltenbrunner was speaking, not when he knew in his heart that Kaltenbrunner wasn't wrong. He was disposable and very likely would be abandoned as soon as he outlived his usefulness soon enough. He was right. His life would not be peaceful after the war. If even one person viewed him as a traitor and decided to do something about it, then it could mean a premature and violent death.

I know that look. That's a sudden realization that you're fucked, no matter what," Kaltenbrunner observed as he stepped back from the younger Hoch. "Yes… death and shame is all your righteousness will have earned you. I will die with my dignity intact, you won't even have that."

Giving Joachim sarcastic smirk, Kaltenbrunner turned and left, leaving Joachim stewing in the newfound fear he had: just how uncertain his future was now.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

"Doctor Morell?"

Joachim could not believe he was doing this. He was standing in the doorway, watching as the lard ass breathed heavily to pull himself from out of his seat.

"Come in, child. How may I help you?" Morell greeted, his hand outstretched to shake Joachim's. "I heard that your stump was hurting you. I know just the thing that will help!"

Smacking the man's hand away, Joachim looked around the room Morell was conducting his medicine. It was absolutely disgusting. How this pig could turn such a beautiful room into a shithole in a matter of two weeks, Joachim could never quite understand. Joachim hated messy people with a passion. It was the surest sign of a weak mind, and a weak mind was generally an uneducated one. How a trained physician would allow a build-up of plates and dirty, stinking clothing build up like this was beyond him.

For now Joachim shoved his revulsion aside. He needed his drugs and he needed them without as much a fuss as he possibly could. If it meant going to this creature so be it. Perhaps when the purge ended and if this son of a bitch was still alive, he would have Morell sentenced to a year hard exercise. Joachim would gladly be this man's trainer. Oh what fun it would be… If he had any luck he'd get to gleefully watch this man keel over from a heart attack or stroke. If he was lucky, it would be both at the same time. Watching Morell's heart and brain explode from within would be a terribly glorious thing to witness.

"I'm not here to make small talk, fat man," Joachim snapped, forcing Theodor to stumble back in shock. "I was referred to you for some off the books medical consultation. I need syringes, one bottle of anaesthetic and another of tranquilizers. I don't want your special treatments, I'm not looking to invest in your quackery, I don't want you selling me anything other than what I ask. No questions asked. So help me God, if I ever find out you talked."

The good humour in the pig's face vanished. No longer was he kindly. He was now down to business.

"That's going to cost you extra," Morell warned him, licking his lips like rat looking at cheese. "And do not think you can coerce me. Your friend Kaltenbrunner set this meeting up for you. He has assured my safety from you! I know psychopaths when I see one and right now I'm looking one dead in the eye."

Joachim narrowed his eyes.

"What did he tell you?" He growled at the son of a bitch.

"That you were planning on ruining Martin Bormann's career or worse," Morell replied, looking like he wanted nothing to do with the topic. "That Ernst was going to have him killed and you would be his instrument. A good idea, if I may so myself. Now… let's see what you brought me today. Right?"

Kaltenbrunner provided an alibi at the risk of his own life? Strange…

Glaring at the pig disguised as a human, Joachim pried open his wallet and dumped the last of his money onto the table before the so-called doctor. His account was drained from the events involving the Ruach boy. Sure as the sun would rise, Theodor Morell's eyes lit up as he inspected the currency, counting each bill carefully. As he finished counting, he looked up, somewhat disappointed.

"Four hundred and thirty five Reichmarks are not enough," Theodor spoke, pushing his glasses back up. "Not if you want my silence. What about your account?"

Joachim shook his head.

"No, not even close…" Morell repeated with a heavy sigh. His eyes flickered over Hoch, his mouth formed a small smile as he added. "How about your watch… I also heard from Fraulein Manzierly that you own a rather nice cigarette case. Let's take a look at it, shall we?"

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _"Admiral Halid'Zorah."_

The holographic projector in Halid's private study lit up. Sitting on the edge of the bed was none other than Joachim Hoch. He appeared to be cleaning and putting together the STG-43 he had smuggled up to the Kehlsteinhaus. How he would use it with only one hand and a stump was not known to Halid at first. Whatever the case, he seemed ready for his task.

Zorah checked his locally synched chronometer. On it read 11:54pm Central European Time, 05/02/43. Tomorrow, the 6th would be the day that everyone in the conspiracy had been waiting for. It was nerve-racking to say the least.

"Joachim Hoch… I'm happy you used my name. I was expecting an expletive," Halid returned, smiling slightly for the human. "I guess you called for a good reason. How are you handling the last hours?"

Joachim was not buying the concern. He stared at Halid.

 _"Cut your concern,"_ Joachim warned the Admiral. _"I know the next phase of your plan. I know you plan on placing me at the top of the RSHA to serve as your puppet. I also know that if I do the right thing and capture the Führer, you will order Heinz Guderian to storm to this chalet as a deception to give the impression Hitler was killed by killing everyone here. You feared I was not mentally stable enough to be told this."_

Zorah blanched. Von Manstein… he told Hoch, didn't he? He knew Manstein had a problem with the plan. He shouldn't have told him, nor anyone other than Guderian himself.

"Here's the thing; your man Erich von Manstein? Well he's mine now," Joachim's holographic image crackled out. "He will be providing me with an exit should I defy your silent wish of assassination. He's going to get me out of any further operations. Now I am willing to take his exit, but I think you can provide me with an alternative: One where we all win."

Halid could not believe. How could that Prussian go behind his back and provide Joachim with an offer to worm out of his duties! Zorah forced his anger back under control. He would listen to the deal being offered. It could not hurt to listen.

 _"I bought the Langer's safety by doing this action. Your next phase is going to be expensive if you want to buy my services. Really expensive,"_ Joachim warned him. He took a moment to exhale before adding. _"I want to bring the Goebbels family up to the fleet, out of the way of the war. Magda Goebbels – Joesph's wife - is here with four of her children. She's sick, extremely sick with a heart condition and a neuropathic disease that leaves her in too much pain to do anything if it is a bad day. You should guess by now that she will be observed and treated if possible. As for the Minister of Public Enlightenment, he is somewhere north with the other two children preparing for a rally in the wake of Stalingrad. I will bring Magda and her children in. You will bring him and the other two children in."_

Halid stared at the defiant human for a moment before he exhaled. Perhaps he could budge... just a little at least.

"For your assistance in the future…I'll permit Magda and her children to ride out the civil war in the safety of the fleet as your guests," he tried to appease the giant staring him down. "I will not make any assurances of lienancy towards Joseph Goebbels."

 _"Do what you will to the little goblin, he is not my concern,"_ Hoch snapped at him. _"I expect space on your shuttle for five more. Shall I be receiving this?"_

Halid looked up to meet Joachim's self-righteously accusing glare. Slowly, Zorah nodded his head in agreement. Resigned to his tasks, now no more than a few hours away, Joachim Hoch cut off his communication channel, leaving the Admiral in a veil of sudden darkness.

Halid exhaled, running his hand through his hair, he enabled his chronometer once again.

 _12:01am Central European Time: 06/02/43_

Inhaling sharply, Halid closed it and stood up to leave his office and join his wife in bed. He would need what little sleep he could get. In five hours, the situation on Earth was about to be changed forever.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: Clean up, Angst Extermination, removal of loose ends. Kind of forgot how fucked up the hoch and Magda stuff is. oh well. Two more chapters to go.**


	10. Last Hours

**Chapter Ten: Last Hours - February 6th, 1943**

 **…**

Pulling his car over just in front of the one waiting for him, Doctor Theodor Morell grabbing his medical kit and with a great struggle, he forced himself out of the car.

Last night he had been pulled aside by the head of the Reich Main Security Office, Ernst Kaltenbrunner, Apparently his friend had been hurt and he was in need of his specialties. Between the oath that he swore as a physician, and the large sum of Reichsmarks he would be paid, Morell was only too happy to oblige Kaltenbrunner's request.

Sure enough, standing in front of the second car in the crisp February night stood Ernst Kaltenbrunner, an expression of warm greeting for the Führer's personal physician.

"Kaltenbrunner, I came as you told me to…" Morell greeted before trailing off.

A second man climbing out of the vehicle to stand with Kaltenbrunner; he was only a few inches shorter than the giant; he looked even more frightening then the giant Austrian SS General. Almost just skin and bones really, it sounded as though he was wheezing. Morell did a double take as he noticed the one feature that hadn't vanished, a long Roman nose.

"Herr _Heydrich_?" the Doctor greeted, taking half a dozen steps closer to great the terrible looking man before him. "Herr Heydrich! It's so wonderful to see you back on your feet! When you were attacked, Hanni and I prayed every night for your recovery."

Morell had expected an acknowledgement, and some form of thank you. He did not get it. Reinhard Heydrich, who looked as though he had stumbled into something most foul smelling, curled his mouth up in a sneer and turned back to the Ernst Kaltenbrunner.

"Don't you dare tell me you let this… _thing_ … this… this fat little pug work on me while I was wounded…" Heydrich spoke viciously.

Heydrich's words making the hulking Austrian laugh out loud at the chubby little doctor's expense.

"Not a chance, I would not wish this cretin upon my worst enemy," Kaltenbrunner reassured the still disgusted Heydrich. "I don't imagine he's seen his dick in twenty… probably thirty years. How the Führer could ever put his faith and health in this quack, I shall never know."

Humiliated, he went for his new cigarette case in his jacket pocket; Morell pulled it out and took one of the cigarettes left behind from the previous owner. Before he could light it, Kaltenbrunner snatched it from his fingers and lit it before he could, taking a drag, then blowing the plume of smoke into Morell's face.

Before Morell could react to the SS bully, Kaltenbrunner smiled at him.

"Müller," Kaltenbrunner called out with a cheerful voice. "Deal with this fat degenerate."

Before he could comprehend what Kaltenbrunner's words mean, a sudden, shocking pain pulsed right around his throat. He went limp, but he did not fall over, the man who was doing this propped his big body against his and squeezed the wire even tighter. It was some sort of wire. Too strong and too tense to fight off.

Gasping and flaying he watched Heydrich and Kaltenbrunner smoke cigarettes together form his new cigarette case. Neither of them had any emotion as they watched the murder unfold before their eyes. The only time they looked away was when Heydrich started hacking, Kaltenbrunner turned to pat the man in the back. The moment he was better, the two of them turned back to watch the sound of cracking bone and cartilage.

Satisfied with his work, the attacker released his grip and dropped Morell down on his back. Morell wasn't dead… At least he thought he wasn't. It certainly didn't feel like death, if he knew what it felt…

 _"You didn't finish the job,"_ Morell could hear Heydrich speak from above him, _"Look, he's still breathing. I thought you knew how to do it, Heinrich."_

 _"I broke his neck…"_ The second voice, presumably from the one known and Heinrich Müller argued back. " _Christ, Reinhard, you try strangling something with that much neck fat and then you'd have the right to fucking taunt me."_

Morell couldn't speak, couldn't cry out in help. He could not wiggle his fingers or his toes. The two of them, Reinhard and Heinrich Müller were presumably good friends, together they laughed wildly at Müller's observation. Eventually they were joined by a slight chuckle from the third man.

 _"What a pathetic piece of filth…"_ the third voice, belonging to Kaltenbrunner rumbled above him _"Finish the fucking job. We need to move on to our next phase."_

There was an audible groan, then a muttered, _'Yeah, yeah.'_ Morell's eyes widened as his attacker bent down right in front of his face. Dark eyed, thick black eyebrows, a slightly receding hairline. It was the head of the Gestapo, Heinrich Müller, combining a sneer and a smile together for him.

Morell helplessly watched as Müller pulled out his pistol and forced the barrel into his mouth. He forced it to graze the roof of Theodor's mouth cavity.

"If you get any blood on me, I'm going to hang your family," Müller warned him.

The last thing Theodor Morell ever saw was the twitch of Müller's trigger finger.

…

…

 _5:00 AM_

Joachim looked away from the clock on the side of his bed and sat up, fully dressed, his STG-43 lying at his side.

It was time to go now.

Gripping the hand guard of the heavy automatic rifle, Joachim finally sat up from his relaxing position and pushed himself off the bed and slung the weapon over his shoulder. First thing first was to get to get Magda and the children moving out to the patio of the chalet, next move was to go to Hitler and drug him, next move was to call for extraction and coerce Hitler into leaving his room with little fight.

When this was gone, Joachim could finally sleep without his actions weighing heavily on his mind. It would be weeks before they organized enough strength to spare for an assault on the Reich Main Security Offices. Weeks he could use to suppress everything and get away from the constant plotting he was engaging in for the past few months.

"Joachim… Joachim, what are you doing?"

Joachim turned around at the familiar voice. Standing there in her nightgown was Traudl Humps, a glass of water in hand, her big eyes wide as she tried to find reason why Joachim would be moving through the hall heavily armed. Joachim remained silent, even as the woman stepped forward to close the space in between the two of them.

What in the hell was he going to tell her? Sure she appeared not to have much in the way of loyalties, but this was still her boss he was plotting away against, and she did have an obligation to stand for the Führer no matter what.

God help him, for a brief moment, he had contemplating silencing her.

Thankfully, his conscious won out over his logic. Instead of murder, Joachim reached out and took Traudl's free hand, making her look to it for a second before looking back up to him. No longer did he have to move in secrecy. Traudl would have to choose a side sooner or later.

"Traudl, listen to me closely," he spoke, his words filled with warning for her. "As we speak Heinz Guderian is readying an army to attack this place. He, along with many other generals and men are now working against the Führer, me included. I'm here to put an end to this madness."

The thought of a hero like Guderian turning against the state and to bring his rage here of all places was enough to make the woman nearly fall over. Joachim's grip on her arm kept her from collapsing right there. She looked completely distressed about what was happening.

"Why... why are you doing this?" she breathed, her head bowed as she seemed to have been in tears.

Joachim let go of her forearm, allowing hand to slide back over top of hers.

"Because someone has to… because if we don't we will be condemned for the things being done in his name," Joachim replied, conflicted by his own answer. He wasn't sure what was driving his actions either.

"Take your friends, take Eva," he all but pleaded her. "Tell her it's her birthday surprise or something. Just… just get them as far as you can away from here. Things are about to change, Traudl. I cannot guarantee your life or theirs if you stay here…"

Traudl did not reply at first. Slowly however she did nod. Finally she looked up to meet the self-professed traitor in the eye.

"Why are you telling all of this?" she whispered uncertainly. "I'm not important enough to be of any concern. You're a hero… I… well… I type."

Joachim could not help himself; despite the drowning pressure now on him, he could not help but quirk his lips at the comment.

"You're a good woman, Traudl. You have been kind to me… kinder than most. I am grateful to consider you as a friend in the short time we have known each other," Joachim softly returned. "So… just go. Go now."

Kissing her cheek as he dropped her hand, Joachim pushed by her, leaving the woman to stew in the mutiny she was still digesting.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

"Don't worry; everything is going to be fine." Hanala assured her sister-in-law with a squeeze of her hand.

Veyare did not speak; she simply lifted her helmet up and allowed herself to nod her head. Hanala brought the somewhat timid woman for very good reason; she needed to offset the amount of marines she had brought with her. She needed a friendly civilian with ties to the science team, in this case her brother.

Veyare didn't need much in the way of convincing. She realized how suspicious thirty armed marines would be and, like the good person she was, she wanted to spare as much bloodshed as she could, so leaving Saleb in her mother-in-law's care, Veyare got herself suited up and joined the mission.

Sighing, Hanala turned away and met Martus'Xen's stare. He did not like this, not one bit. Whether it was being back on Earth in such a volatile time, or simply because he was back under her command, Hanala wasn't exactly sure. Hanala assumed it was a little of both. As he clearly stated, this was meant to benefit him and his family in the near future, this was not him volunteering out of the goodness of his heart.

The two military transport shuttle's disguised as the standard civilian vessels touched down on the surface of the word. The sides slid open and out jumped the thirty man team, greeted by the standard amount of SS guards and, of course, Gerald Langer, who looked exhausted, but friendly enough despite Hanala's interruption. He stepped forward, a smile on his face and his hand outstretched to Hanala.

"Hanala, it's always a pleasure to have you here," Gerald said as he leaned into kiss each side of Hanala's cheeks.

Hanala smiled for Joachim's mentor, the guilt of the betrayal about to take place twisting inside of her.

"Thank you Gerald, this is the science team that shall be rotating in place of the team here;" Hanala returned the greeting, dropping the hand after several more moments. "Sorry for such an early start. I'm just an off duty Admiral. I have no say in any matter. I assume that the science team stationed is to be debriefed, and then they will be sent home to their families. It's been months since they had that."

Gerald smiled crookedly, his eyes wandering to the marine team inching towards the museum.

"Gentlemen, ladies, I would prefer you stay here until your team is out of the building," Gerald explained, his charming smile trying to put the faceless masks at ease. "I mean no disrespect, but Reichsführer Heinrich Himmler is not quite as trusting as I. He prefers it that the quarian team does not exceed more than one hundred at any time inside the facility."

Hanala looked to Xen. He nodded curtly as though he appeared to be fine with the idea. Hanala turned back and nodded to Joachim's best friend and Father rolled into one. She reached out and pulled Veyare to her side, making the woman yelp as she found herself at the centre of attention.

"Of course, but please, This is Veyare`Jarva, my Brother`s wife," Hanala introduced to Gerald. "We would like to go down together. They haven't seen each other in such a long time. Please… as a favour to me?"

Gerald stroked his mouth as he looked over Veyare carefully.

"It`s a pleasure to finally meet the better half of the two," Gerald addressed the civilian.

He turned back to Hanala,

"Hanala, the thing is this facility is designated for military and science personnel only. I`m afraid I have to say no," he replied as softly. "Though why doesn't she follow us? I can show her to my office and you and your Brother can retrieve her from there. It might motivate him into slowing down; he's a hard worker, that Rael."

"Yeah…" Hanala mumbled. "That sounds like my idiot brother…"

"Man was so uptight I was thinking about hiring him a nice Austrian prostitute or something," Gerald replied, a smirk growing on his face.

Veyare gasped, Hanala burst into laughter at the standard dirty behaviour of the old man. No wonder Joachim adored him, he was awesome.

It was Gerald's turn to laugh. He ushered them along, opening the front doors of the museum for them. They granted Hanala a chance to gasp at how beautiful the construction was before they headed in the direction of Gerald's offices. Hanala took a deep breath. She had to be careful now.

"Gerald…" Hanala spoke softly, her tone turning sweet as she smiled kindly to Gerald. "I was hoping that I could meet your family before I leave, especially the young ones. Joachim has given glowing reviews about them. Perhaps when everyone is awake? I'm sure Veyare would love to seem human children for the first time."

Veyare smiled as well and nodded.

Looking at the two of them carefully, Gerald did not reply at first.

"I… suppose I could invite them over…" Gerald found his voice finally. "Funnily enough you`re not the first to ask for that, your Brother asked the exact same thing. "

He paused and turned to Veyare.

"I suppose he`s good with children?" he inquired.

Veyare's smile widened as she nodded once again.

"He's the best, Herr Langer," she said, properly using the phrase Hanala taught her on the way down. "Our daughter is his pride and joy."

It was Gerald's turn to nod as they reached his office. Unlocking the door, he turned the light on and gestured to Veyare to enter.

"Well, I can relate to that, Frau Jarva. I have four daughters and two sons –four if I include Joachim and Heinrich," Gerald proudly stated, smiling as Veyare's eyes widened at just how large human families could be. "I'll escort Hanala down to the facility; we'll be back in a quarter of an hour."

Veyare stepped inside and waved her hand to Hanala, who smiled. Together Gerald and Hanala walked away, heading down the corridors in silence. It wasn't until they reached the main basement staircase to the facility that the silence was broken by Gerald.

"Lene is quite concerned about Joachim," he admitted. "So am I. His recent behaviour has been troubling."

Hanala nodded as she stepped through the door, behind her came Langer next.

"I as well," she agreed with the old Standartenführer. "We'll need to do something about it soon. The Gestapo did a toll to him."

Gerald nodded silently.

"I know," he said behind her. "I've already arranged something for him."

Without any warning, without so much as a realization there was a sudden and brutal blow to the back of her head. Caught off guard, Hanala's body crumpled and fell down the flight of stairs. She landed hard on the concrete, in some sort of murky, lukewarm pool.

The last thing she saw was Langer staring at her, his pistol drawn and held limply at his side. He turned away and, turning the lights off, closed the door behind him. As darkness overwhelmed her senses, the sound of an ambushing slaughter erupted overhead.

Hanala could only ground as the darkness overtook her.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

"Good mornin'.. Is that you Hoch?"

Closing the bedroom door behind him, Joachim carefully stepped forward in the dark to Magda Goebbels' bed. The light flickered on, making Joachim pause for a moment. The woman, usually so vibrant, was curled up in her blanket, her eyes looked on him strangely, like he was a sight for sore eyes.

Joachim forced a smile to cross his mouth as he took a seat on the side of her bed. His hand tenderly touched against her head. It was hot, like she had a fever or something along those lines. Magda winced, but still she smiled just the same as she leaned onto her elbows to force herself to sit up somewhat in the presence of him.

"How are you feeling?" Joachim whispered empathetically, his fingers grazing her cheek. "Sorry if it may seem forward... me being here and all. I just… I just had to see you."

Magda's smile widened. With a great struggle, she leaned in. Joachim knew what this was. Swallowing his pride and commitment to Hanala, Joachim leaned in and gave the woman a careful kiss on her mouth. It was a touch that brought joy to the older woman as she pulled back.

"I'm so glad you're here, Joachim," she murmured as she rested her forehead into his shoulder. "I could use your help…"

Joachim nodded.

"It just so happens that I had the same thought," Joachim agreed with her, brushing his hand through her hair. "I'm going to stay and make sure you'll be okay. Can you lay down for a moment? I have something for the pain."

As Magda obeyed his request, Joachim turned away from her and went into his jacket pocket, pulling out the three needles he had traded for. Taking the one he had marked as the anaesthetic, he turned back to Magda, who stared nervously at the needle. To ease her comfort, Joachim pressed his lips against her forehead before pressing the tip of the needle against what appeared to be a vein.

"Magda… what if I told you I knew people who could help you," he said as he injected the contents slowly before pulling back the needle from her arm. "What if they could take care of you? They're Doctors who could look into what's wrong and see if they can figure out a way to alleviate it, perhaps even fix it…"

Magda's eyes lit up. Joachim had used the right words to entice her. As drugged as she may have been, even she knew that the drugs would subside, but the pain would continue on. Here stood Joachim, offering her a chance to ease the burden of her condition. It was only natural that she would take the opportunity.

"I… I'd very much like to see them. When shall we go…" she slurred as she tried to sit up. Joachim reached out and lifted her body up for her.

Letting go of her, Joachim wandered to the door and pulled what appeared to be Magda's housecoat from off the door rack. He turned back to find Magda swaying, but still she had enough sense to wonder what exactly Joachim was doing. Joachim leaned in, kissing the side of her lips, freezing her fogged thought process to focus instead on the affection.

"Well, I am off to meet one of them in town. I told them about your state and they're only too happy to investigate, "Joachim explained to her as he wrapped the coat around her shoulders; "The thing is, they only have time to meet us in about an hour before they head back to Berlin. We have to get ready and meet him now."

Magda's eyes widened. Her pupils were now unnaturally large. Joachim knew that the drugs were now coursing through her brain. She was now in a simple minded state. He would only need to now make the suggestions using the right words and appease her every concern she could think of.

"B-but what about the children… I can't just leave them here…" she murmured as she rubbed her face.

Joachim nodded as he finished tying up Magda's housecoat. He stood and offered his hand to her. Giggling in her inebriated state, Magda took the hand and nearly squealed as Joachim lifted her right off the bed. Joachim forced himself to smile flirtatiously as he wrapped his arm around her waist.

"Don't worry about the children," Joachim reassured her. "I'll wake them up and bring them to you, and we shall bring them along. Okay?"

Magda nodded and with that, Joachim was free to take Magda, then the children to the extraction zone. When she realized what was going to happen, Magda Goebbels was going to be so pissed…

 **...**

* * *

 **…**

Hanala opened her eyes and groaned lowly as she rolled onto her side. What in the hell had happened…

She was walking down the stairs with Gerald, something happened and she went stumbling down the stairs. Hanala looked down; her outfit was covered in quarian blood; far too much to be her own. That and the human blood as well. What in the human hell had happened here?!

As her blurred mind came back to her, she could draw her own conclusion…

"Welcome back… it seems you have been spared, Admiral, "a female voice called behind her, choked full of military professionalism. "Here, hold that to your head."

Spitting out a mouthful of blood, Hanala turned back and found a fellow quarian woman standing over her, a clean cloth in her hand, a frown for an expression. With shaking hands, Hanala accepted the cloth from the woman and pressed it against her pulsing head. She hissed as the pressure burned. Through her blurred vision, she noticed the human next to the quarian.

"Sergeant Odalha'Cauja vas Taleb, sir," she introduced herself. "The human is Doctor Werner von Braun… Doctor von Braun? She's awake now."

The human turned back as Hanala remained unhappy with the word sir being used for her. It was… it was him, the tall dark eyed human that wanted to know every last detail about the propulsion of the _Devoas_ the first time Hanala was back in her ship after the crash. He was some sort of rocket engineer. Whatever he was, he had scared her by how quickly humans wanted to start adapting quarian technology into their own. Rumour had it he was developing the first surface to surface ballistic missile system. It was scary to think about, really. These people had only just invented flight and now they were onto rocketry…

"What happened here?" She moaned as she pulled the cloth from her head and sat up from the empty med bay.

"An SS contingent showed up here, that's what happened. Three companies, a Panzer group; led by Otto Skorzeny and Reinhard Heydrich," the scientist known as Von Braun said to her. "Heydrich went to talk to Langer I guess, Skorzeny came down here with a full company and shot the facility up. Humans, quarians, it didn't matter to them. We were all to be eliminated. For the most part, he did his job well…"

Cauja nodded, confirming what Wernher von Braun was speaking of.

"We fought back, humans… us, together we tried to stop the SS, but they were too many and we had too few weapons to put up a real fight, "The Sergeant added. "Most of us weren't even in proper gear. Too used to living exposed I guess…"

Werner rubbed his eyes. He looked exhausted. They went silent as Hanala allowed what had happened to settle into her. The SS knew what they and the Wehrmacht had been plotting. They must have had acted hours before Joachim was supposed to abduct Hitler. It meant one thing. There had been a leak, and Hanala knew exactly where it came from. That prick, Kaltenbrunner. It had to have been him. Now two teams of quarians were dead… No… this wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening…

"How... how could this happen, "Braun pressed on, his voice choked with disbelief. "most of the science team holds rank in the SS. I'm a goddamn Sturmbannführer for Christ sake. Anyways, I got shot and Odalha here saved me. Hiding in the ship ever since."

Next to Hanala, Cauja offered the rocket scientist a faint smile.

"Just doing my job, Doctor."

Hanala ran her hand through her blood soaked short hair.

"My Brother…"

Next to her, she felt Cauja's hand touch against her shoulder.

"He's gone…I'm sorry, Admiral... he's…"

Hanala batted her hand off her shoulder and turned her suddenly angry expression to the sergeant. How dare she say something like that?

"He's not _**dead**_ ," Hanala snapped, cutting the non-commissioned officer off. "Langer wouldn't kill him. He was wounded, probably, Rael deserves to be shot every once and a while, but he's not _**dead**_. Besides, my Brother is too stupid to die. He'd think it selfish…"

Hanala shook her head in defience to the statement made by the Marine.

"We need… we need weapons..." she could barely express coherently. "We need weapons."

Cauja and Braun shared a look, like they knew better. Well they didn't. Their only hope for survival was to fight back and make it to an improvised extraction zone. This mission was a failure, but first Hanala had to go and collect Veyare and Rael, then they would escape. Langer and the family were lost causes, Joachim would have to leave them down here until the war ended, or they could regroup and come back together…

"I have my rifle and a Wernher has a human pistol. There is nothing else," Cauja pointed out for her Admiral. "Skorzeny and his men picked this place clean. They confiscated all military technologies that they could use."

Hanala looked around at the ship they were in. it was her old ship. Surely it wasn't picked clean as well. Suddenly a smile crossed her face. With a groan she forced herself back onto her feet.

Storming down the corridors of her old ship, Odalha and Braun behind her, she turned the corner and stepped into her former quarters. To say it was small and cramped in comparison to her new ship was an understatement.

Ignoring her pain, she reached under her bed and wrapped her hands on the latched box she kept under it. Grunting, she pulled the crate out and fell back with a huffing breath. She pushed herself back onto her knees and wiped the dust from off the lockbox's palm pad. Pressing her hand on the pad, the crate clicked and opened, revealing its contents.

Although she needed the contents, the words engraved into the crate lid caught her attention.

 _-Granddaughter_

 _Congratulations on your captaincy, my love. Do not tell your Mother I'm arming you like a marine. Do not use unless you need this._

 _With great hope that you will never have to use this,_

 _-Grandmother._

Hanala forced her eyes away on the inscription on the crate lid left by her Late Grandmother Jalina and turned her focus to the contents.

Inside the crate was a suit of combat environmental suit, coloured purple and black with what appeared to be a trimming of gold with an omni-tool built in. pulling it out, Hanala revealed a shotgun with an underslung concussion round launcher and pistol underneath it. They came out next. Gathering the contents, she laid them on her bed and sat next to them, her eyes finally meeting the human rocket scientist and the quarian marine, both of whom were watching her.

Hanala kicked off her footwear and grabbed the armour legging. She had a plan. It was a simple plan, but this was not a time for complexity. This was ripe for a simple, terrible reaction.

"We're going to kill every bosh'tet up there, free my brother and sister-in-law, and head into Vienna," she finally spoke, turning her focus to Cauja. "Sergeant, are you with me?"

She earned a nod from the marine, who pulled her combat rifle off her back. Hanala turned away and without waiting, she grabbed the quarian built pistol and tossed it at Braun, who instinctively caught it. Hanala ignored Braun's reaction as he inspected the, in his eyes, futuristic sidearm. Finishing pulling on the legging, she pulled off her jacket and went to work strapping the chest plate to her body.

"Whether you like it or not, you now stand against the National Socialists," Hanala muttered as she fastened every strap to her and turned her focus to the neckpiece. "Are you going to be a problem, Doctor? Because I'm only to be honest, right now is not a good time to be a problem for me. No illusions of choice, Doctor, stand against me and I will shoot you right now."

Turning her focus to connecting the arms to her combat armour and pulling on the light gauntlets, she then grabbed the scattergun, given it a careful inspection before fitting in the heat sink. She watched the dormant weapon come back to life. As soon as it did, she levelled the weapon at von Braun, who took a step back.

"I never killed anyone before, but I'm a fast learner," he said.

Staring at him for any sign of deception on his part, Hanala nodded. Grabbing her helmet, she fastened it over her head and waited for her kinetic barriers to flare to life.

She might have been ready to fight. She could still save her Brother and sister-in-law.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

"Oh, Herr Hoch, what brings you here at this hour-"

Joachim did not allow Heinz Linge a chance to finish his relatively harmless greeting. With all his might, he kneed the valet hard in the solarplex. He watched as Linge's stunned body collapsed to his knees. As Linge looked up, Joachim reared his head back and smashed it hard into Linge's.

Linge collapsed to the floor, but before he could react, Joachim dropped his knee down onto his neck and leaned in, their noses nearly touching as Joachim glared at him, his hand fumbling to find his tranquilizer syringe.

"Scream and I'll break your throat," he warned the valet, his teeth bared at him. "I swear I will do it."

Linge, who was clearly not a stupid man, complied with Joachim's order. Pulling the needle out, Joachim plunged the needle tip into the SS man's neck. Linge's eyes bulged as he nearly ignored the order. Joachim applied more pressure against his windpipe.

Pulling his knee off Linge's neck, Joachim placed his hand over his mouth and watched silently as the Valet slowly succumbed to the drugs taking effect. It too several long minutes, but it worked. Joachim his hand pulled back from his mouth. Silently he stood up and stepped over the paralyzed body.

With great care, Joachim opened the door. He closed the door behind him as he stepped into the Führer's private room. His eyes never left the form of the sleeping dictator lying there. He looked so terribly odd in such a quiet state.

Gathering his nerves, Joachim stepped carefully into the room, unbuckling his pistol holster, and then grabbing the final needle in his possession. He could not believe he was doing this. This was surreal. This was a dream. It had to be. He was on the verge of abducting the Führer. What in the hell was wrong with him! He gave Joachim reason to exist and here he was paying his personal hero back by drugging him…

Joachim shook his head, there could be no doubt. Not now, not when he was this close.

Taking a deep breath, Joachim pulled the blankets back to reveal the Führer laying there in sleepwear. Joachim nearly thought the man slept in a uniform, but it was not the case. His heart pumping hard, Joachim rolled up the Führer's sleeve. Exhaling, he injected the tranquilizer into his forearm.

The Führer's eyes opened, the fact that he was a light sleeper startled Joachim so much that he jumped back a good metre back, his hand reaching out to draw his Walther on him. Joachim could not believe it. He was pointing a gun at him now. Still they stared at each other, until Joachim coughed into his arm.

"My Führer," Joachim finally spoke up. To say the words were awkward was an understatement.

"Hoch, what are you doing in my room, " the Führer spoke, his voice a forced calm as he eyed the pistol. "What have you _done_?"

Joachim could only stare at first.

"It's too late now. You will be out in a few minutes. Do not scream. Do not talk. Only bad things will come from it," the now officially disgraces SS man told his former boss. "I was granted a choice of two actions for you: assassination or capture you. I have chosen the latter. Do not force my hand."

Turning away for a second from his former boss, Joachim tapping his omni-tool.

"This is Hoch, I have him," he spoke on the channel. "I need transportation now on my location. Ten minutes."

Ignoring the confirmation of the quarian shuttle pilot he was working with, Joachim turned back to the Führer.

"Get up," Hoch nervously ordered. "We're going for a walk. One wrong move and things end terribly."

Joachim watched as the Führer pulled himself out of his bed and stood unsteadily, the first sign that the drugs were kicking in. His pistol remained drawn on him as he stepped into his shoes. Joachim opened the door and staring hard at the Führer, he silently marched the dictator out of the room, his pistol pressed in his back as he led him to the chalet patio.

"My Führer, despite these circumstances, I wish you could only understand the love and respect I still have for you," Joachim found himself speaking the praises he still held for him. "Ultimately it was you who provided me with everything I ever needed, a family, stability, a purpose and self-respect. For eight years I felt like I was someone involved in something bigger than I. I… I want to thank you for everything you provided me."

"And this is how you repay your Führer?" The Führer growled, nearly losing it until he felt the pistol buried even tighter into his back.

"I did not want to do it, not a first. Then I saw the horrors of what I supported had caused," Joachim replied, ignoring how close the words hit home. "They are doing acts that I do not know if you ordered or not. I can only hope that Himmler and Heydrich did this on their own accord. The people who I work with, they will be presenting you with the evidence of their crimes. If they can link you to it, they will trial you before the eyes of the Germany and the world."

Joachim opened the door to the patio. The Führer stepped through and out into the patio. He staggered slightly; the drugs were starting to kick in. Joachim looked up as he heard Helmut Goebbels call out to Hoch and the Führer. Joachim tucked the pistol back into his holster and pressed his hand into his back, guiding him along. Magda appeared to be fast asleep.

 _"Two minutes out,"_ Hoch heard that bastard Zorah speak to him. " _Order has been sent, Guderian has started his attack. Good work."_

"You made Germany strong, this no one can doubt," Joachim pressed on as he closed his link to the quarian on the other end. "If you are clean of the extermination done in your name, then that shall be your legacy, but you will not be in charge of our fate any longer."

Ushering for silence from the children, Joachim brushed the snow off the seat of one the sun chairs and sat the Führer down on it. The Führer's head bobbed in place as he forced his line of sight to look straight up to Joachim, who stood there, still conflicted by how he was feeling about all of this.

"Who's in charge of this treachery…" the Führer barely managed to get out. "Was it Von Rundstedt? Von Manstein?"

Below them the faint noise of fighting had erupted down in Berchtesgaden. Mostly he could hear the whistling of artillery, then the resulting explosions that lit the clouds below them up. From above them, the approaching humming noise of a quarian shuttle transport came ever closer.

Joachim turned back to the Führer; a crooked smile crossed his mouth. His perceptions of reality were about to be shattered if he was still awake.

"You'll find out soon enough," Joachim assured him, even as he was drifting in and out of consciousness.

He would find out, but it would be a full day after he was placed under arrest.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

" _ **Museum is under lockdown, all units head to the west wing!"**_

Hanala ignored the blaring of the loudspeakers overhead, she raised her scattergun, or, as she once heard Joachim call a weapon of similar style, a Shotgun and pumped a deafening round through the nearest SS man she saw, his chest imploded as he crumpled to the ground without a noise other than a thud.

Behind her, both Cauja and Braun followed her lead, their weapons tearing behind her, forcing a squad of approaching SS men to dive and duck for some sort of cover behind walls and podiums. Cauja ducked, built had to reach back and pull the untested and clearly civilian Wernher down with her. She was the only one with a working kinetic barrier system. As that was the case, she had the two unarmoured partners to remain behind her so she would take the brunt of the defense.

Hanala pushed on, ignoring the flaring of projectiles burning out against her strong shielding. She fired another round, taking off one man's head and peppering the German behind him. He fell to the ground, only to have Hanala step on his throat. Ignoring his strangled pleas, she fired another round through his chest, silencing him.

At the top of her lungs, Hanala gave out a bloodcurdling scream as she charged the squad pinning down the less prepared members of her makeshift group. Some of the SS men ran even, forgetting false bravado at the sight of the near invulnerable quarian charging them, others did not.

The one who stayed made a most terrible mistake.

Shifting her shotgun to her left hand, she activated her omni-tool's, omni-blade function. Her bladed arm swooped low as she hit the four that that remained with a concussion shot that knocked them down. The first one that stood back up was hit with enough force that the blade not only went through from belly to spine, but lifted him off the ground vertically a good metre.

Hanala dropped him and spun around, shooting in the next guy clean in the face face, before kicking the corpse of her arm so that she could stab the third man, who found himself pinned under the shotgun's body. His eyes widened a she screamed into his face, plunging her blade through his ribcage until she broke through to his heart. The fourth man was back onto his feet, but as cut down by the combined fire of Cauja and Braun.

Deactivating her omni-blade and gathering her shotgun, Hanala pulled herself back up from the corpses she was surrounded by. She glanced to the other two, both of them pale faced by what they were witnessing. She had to do this. She had to inspire fear. It was the only way her Brother and Sister-in-Law would remain alive.

The eruption of grenades and the buzzing of the MG-42 broke the calm; Hanala pulled the two others behind cover.

 _ **"Hanala'Jarva. I know you're listening. This is Gerald Langer,"**_ the PA system blared overhead. _**"Surrender now and I will not kill you. Know that it is my right to kill you for this betrayal. You have turned Joachim, the eldest of my children against everything he has ever stood for. His love and devotion to you remains the only reason I have not simply ordered in heavy weapons to deal with you like I dealt with your rescue team."**_

The machine gun fire phased out. Hanala did her the best she could to ignore Langer's rage filled spite. She could not kill this man any more than he could kill her. Joachim's closest thing to having a father had been found in this man. All she could do was hope for the best, fight her way to her sibling and his wife, then retreat to somewhere. Perhaps to the Langer house. Grab the family and use them as a bargaining tool.

 **"I know now what you intend for us, for Earth,"** Langer pressed on. _ **"You want us to serve as some sort of cannon fodder for an invasion of your old planet. To become slave soldiers in exchange for technology. You came here under the banner of peace, but all the peace that you have brought is to be through submission. Well I will not allow this. I will break the allure of friendly occupation. I will break it by starting with you."**_

A sudden roar and a terrible, familiar sound of concrete breaking caught Hanala's attention. The roar belonged to that of a Tiger engine being kicked to top gear. It tore its way right inside of the grand old museum, its heavy tracks tearing up everything in its path as it rumbled towards them, the marble flooring, the priceless human artefacts, the corpses of the dead. Nothing escaped its path.

 **"RUN!"** Hanala screamed at the others. It did not even take the word of warning to convince them.

Overtop of the roar of the engine, the mechanical buzzing of the two MG-34'S firing in their general position. The three of them bolted hugging what cover they could fine, shooting any infantryman they came across as they tried to evade the rampaging heavy armour.

Suddenly, the communication channel connected to her suit crackled to life. It was her brother's communitcation unit.

 _ **"RAEL,"**_ she shrieked. _**"RAEL STAY PUT-"**_

Three rounds from the Panzer's machine gun flared her shield; she fell down and crawled around the corner of the hallway leading to the main atrium.

The wall exploded behind the group. Hanala fell as her shields were hit but concrete that landed on her. It left her stunned for several long moments before she finally opened her eyes and gasped. Her heart was beating like a salarian as she realized that she had barely escaped a Tiger's main gun round. For a moment she was grateful for the pain shot through her as she found herself trying to unbury herself.

"Are… Are you two okay?"

They weren't. Neither of them had the protection she had. Both the soldier and the rocket scientist were torn to pieces by the exploding shell and the debris dropped onto them.

They did not have the gear Hanala had. Neither of them had a hope for survival.

Hanala scrambled backwards as the realization of what had happened came to her like a punch in the gut. Hitting the blood drenched concrete rubble. She was in a state of collapse. Hyperventilation and shaking burned through her body. She was all alone, she had to move, she had to find her family before they were dealt with. She stood up and slowly limped away from the dead, the Tiger no longer given chase as she wandered dazed through what was left of the museum she once considered a home.

Her hand pressed against her visor, smearing it with blood of two species. She whimpered to herself as she staggered and collapsed, wheezing hard before pulling herself back up once again. Holstering her shotgun, she collected Couja's bloodied assault rifle off of her cut-in-three corpse before limping out into the hallway.

She barely registered the roaring of German coming from men running towards her.

Her shields flared and failed as more bullets connected, the bullets slamming into the hardened quarian armour, causing painful agony to shoot through her body and still with enough force to stagger and make her collapse. Hanala pulled herself onto her knees, ignoring her burning pain; she raised the rifle and shot down two more men before getting back up once again. Hanala moaned once more as she dragged her body and weapon through the archway to the main atrium.

One round fired out of nowhere, smashing her hardened faceplate in, cracking the glass.

Hanala crumpled to the ground, scarcely aware of the pounding of dozens of SS soldiers pouring into the atrium. Their weapons raised, yet none of them shooting. Hanala gripped her rifle and tried to force enough strength to come back to her, but it was not to be. She dropped her rifle uselessly and remained dead still, only the sound of her wheezing breath came from her.

Still no one fired on her.

The only noise made was boots coming down the staircase. Hanala looked up at the very last moments before the completely untouched looking Gerald Langer stepped through his men. He spoke no words as he pulled the assault rifle and shotgun from out of her reach. He offered her a smile that never met his eyes as he leaned down onto on knee. His hands carefully unlatching the blood smeared helmet.

Dropping it, he inspected her cut up face. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a handkerchief and with great care, dabbed the blood from out of the burnt out and defenseless woman. Hanala remained silent, staring wide as Gerald took care of her as though he was one of her child.

"Hanala," he murmured to her. "I am… truly…sorry it came to this… but none of us get to walk away from this…"

Gerald stood back up and took ten steps back; his hand went above his head as he snapped his fingers together. Nothing happened at first, then, two bodies hit the floor only a metre and a half away from her.

Hanala's eyes widened, there, body shot up, his face twisted horribly in what appeared to have been a last desperate scream. It was Rael; the second body next to him, Veyare. Hanala screamed out. All of her senses were lost. She struggled, her hurt body shuffled to them as she reached out to embrace the two of them.

Hanala tore her eyes from them and focused onto Langer, who stood there idly, a cigarette in his fingertips. His eyes were watery as he looked down on the woman who whom he had destroyed her family.

As the rest of the SS men backed off from her and her family members, Langer stayed motionless. He did not say a word. He took a drag of his cigarette and listened to Hanala's sobbing in respectful silence.

 **…**

* * *

 **...**

The doors of the shuttle opened as it touched down on the deck of the _Kareon's_ shuttle bay with a jolt, the thump made the children on board the transport scream out in sudden fear. Joachim, unlatching himself from the seat, smiled reassuringly to the four children gathered around their mother. After he unstrapped them from their own seats, Joachim hit the slide doors, opening them to reveal two quarians already out in the docking bay.

"I need some assistance over here!"

The quarian marines looked to one another at the order being issued to them by the human. They did not like the demand being made of them, but knew better than to ignore what he had said. He was Admiral Hanala'Jarva's plaything; they would not dare cross Hanala. Not when the fleet was under complete martial law.

They climbed into the shuttle and, ignoring the protesting screams coming from the children, they pulled the woman off the shuttle seat as Joachim silently ordered them to and took her off the vehicle and down to one of the wheelchairs waiting for his incapacitated prisoners.

Before Helmut could launch himself at the quarians taking his mother away, Joachim leaned down and gripped onto him, holding him in place.

"Your mother is ill, children. She is extremely ill and she will only get worse if all of us do not help her," he stated calmly, his chin resting on Helmut's shoulder as he looked on the resting of the crying children.

Stating the facts worked. The resistance in the boy died, the tears from the girls ceased, they all looked at him like he was pronouncing a death sentence on their mother. Joachim bit his lip as he considered each and every word he needed to say to them carefully.

"These people are here to make your Mother feel better," he carefully spoke. "I know they are strange looking, but they are my friends, and friends help each other. I asked them to bring your Mother here so they could make her happy and healthy again, but in order for that to happen, you four have to be strong while we're here. Strong for your mother, or else…"

Joachim allowed the remark to remain unfinished, they were young… they did not need to hear the word death being uttered by him. They just needed to hear the implication…

"Where are we?" Helmut inquired, looking at the futuristic shuttle they were in carefully. Joachim could only smile as he stood up and brushed hand over her hair.

"Follow your mother, do not stray from her, do not leave their side and do not explore," Joachim listed off to all of them. "I shall explain everything to you soon. Can you make me this promise?"

The children murmured in agreement, Joachim nodded and jumped out of the shuttle, helping each of the children to climb out of the vessel and watched silently as they followed their Mother.

"Fuhrmann?"

The giant offered his former commandant a friendly smile as he looked away from the sight of Magda Goebbels and the children following their mother close behind her and the quarian handlers. Behind the smile laid clear confusion. He wasn't sure what was going on. No one had told him the full truth…

It was in that moment Joachim felt the full guilt of what he had done. Now he knew what it must have been like for Hanala or Zorah on the verge of pulling the wool from off of someone else's eyes.

"Hello Herr Standartenführer… I got the call to meet a shuttle outside of the city," Heinrich started to explain his reason for being here. He however trailed off, his eyes widened as he added. "Is that… Joachim, is that the _Führer_?!"

Joachim turned around, sure enough being wheeled out on a steel wheelchair, sat Adolf Hitler in a comatose state, his hands bounded in what appeared to be handcuffs. He turned away from the spectacle and back to Heinrich, who could not tear his eyes away from what was unfolding before him. Joachim wished he had something intelligent to say, but he didn't. He just wanted to bid a farewell to Fuhrmann, catch a shuttle to the Bismarck and go to sleep while he waited for Hanala's return.

But it was not to be.

The shuttle bay doors opened and in stepped Admiral Halid'Zorah, looking frazzled as he led what appeared to be a security and medical detail. He stopped his approach as the two guards wheeled the Führer to the holding cells until an interrogation could commence. Halid looked down on Hitler, his head tilted to the side. He did not seem satisfied.

Zorah nodded to Hitler's guard, allowing them to continue their work. Silently Joachim watched as Zorah and the team approach Fuhrmann and him. Before he realized it, Joachim was suddenly sitting on the edge of the Shuttle, placed there by the alien team.

"Zorah what the hell is going on!?" Joachim demanded as he watched the medical team with Zorah surround him. The lead member opened the case he was holding. Inside it was what appeared to be mechanical arm built for a quarian, not a human.

"This is a prosthetic limb. Not quite as useful as the real thing you have been using, but it can be snapped on at a moment's notice," Halid explained as the limb snapped into place. "It will serve as a temporary alternative until we can set up a proper surgery date for you. You will have to go back to Earth."

Joachim was about to protest. He wanted nothing better than to spit in the bastard's face before he knocked him to the ground and beat the lifeless shit out of him for once again deceiving him. It took a long look at the fearful expression on Zorah's face to convince him that he had to listen to the Admiral first.

"There has been an incident. Gerald Langer has taken Hanala hostage," Halid explained to him, his words as pale as his fear filled expression. "Her rescue team are dead; the quarian science team are dead: One hundred thirty two in all. He demands both yourself and Heinrich Fuhrmann to present yourselves to him. He hasn't hurt Hanala yet."

Joachim blinked, his mouth dropping open. No… no this wasn't happening, it couldn't be happening… Gerald knew better than to act rashly. It was one thing to get called out for being a traitor. That Joachim expected, but to actively wage war against the quarians? This was suicide!

"I don't know how this happened Hoch, but I am sorry I did not forsee this…" Halid spoke, his voice barely presenting control.

Joachim did not have time for anything, least of all this scrawny quarian admiral giving him the business. Flexing his temporary replacement limb, Joachim unslung his STG-43 and climbed back into the shuttle, Fuhrmann not missing a beat as he did the same.

"You can give me excuses later," Joachim growled before turning to the pilot to add. "Now get this shuttle moving!"

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _"I have orders to drop you off and go into the stratosphere until pick up. Good luck, humans."_

Barely paying attention, Joachim nodded to the pilot, gathered his STG-43 and stepped off the transportation with Fuhrmann following him close behind. The moment they did, the shuttle roared out of the zone of fire without so much as a hesitation, leaving the two of them alone. Joachim looked around in complete shock.

This was a nightmare… an utter nightmare.

For the second time in a year, the grounds of the museum had been turned into a desolate warzone. Fires of orange and blue shot high in the sky from burning Hanomag's, numerous other light vehicles, two STuG's three PZ.38na's and a Panzer III. Smashed next to a rumbling Tiger Tank laid a torn to shreds quarian shuttle. The grounds were covered in dead and wounded SS men along with the occasional environmental suit wearing quarian. Twenty … thirty of the quarians, double that in dead SS men easily.

Looking to Heinrich, Joachim stepped forward ignoring the glaring accusing eyes of the sentry SS men watching him. Their rifles were raised at him as he made his approach. These were the same men he once commanded a year was clear now, that although he wore the uniform, he was no longer one of them anymore. He was now rogue, alone.

Joachim stopped his careful stepping in between the bodies and wreckage as he took notice of one of the corpses lying on the ground. It was Martus'Xen laying in a crater still smoking. His charred body torn in half by what was likely to have been a tank shell or the apparent artillery shelling this small killing field had been subjected to. Fuhrmann turned back, his eyes widened as he joined Joachim.

 _"Oh my God…"_ Fuhrmann whispered to himself.

Joachim remained silent as the grave. He may not have liked him, but he did not deserve this. He had a wife, a pregnant wife the last time he was around the annoying bastard. This… This shouldn't have happened. This was a nightmare. It had to be the only explanation.

But it wasn't. As such, Joachim had to mourn for Xen later and stepped past an SS medical team trying to stop the bleeding of a Rottenführer's missing leg. Joachim ignored the Panzer IV rolling towards them at a low rumble. More and more the SS men turned their attentions to him and Fuhrmann. The anger and hatred were thick in the air. Not a single one of them had to say a word, and they didn't.

No, the only sound that echoed over the roars of the oxygen feeding the flames of the oil and element zero fires were that of loud wailing sobs from a lone female coming from just inside of the museum. Joachim's blood froze, but his brain went into overdrive. He bolted up the smouldering stairs, past more bodies and into the blown open doors of the museum.

That was when he heard it. The most painful sobbing he had ever heard in his life.

There, sitting on the floor of the museum main atrium sat Hanala. Her scalp and face were bleeding heavily, her face smeared in grime and both dried human and quarian blood. Her state was inconsolable as she cradled two quarians in her lap. Joachim's heart nearly stopped beating as he finished the climb up, his was body shaking as he realized that it had been both Rael'Jarva, whose body was broken by automatic fire and Veyare'Jarva, her helmet was torn off, a single clean entrance wound through her head and cuts that looked as though they had beaten in her facial plate first.

How they died no longer mattered. Both of whom Hanala was clutching onto as though she could resurrect them. She did not acknowledge his approach, nor the squad with submachine guns pointed around her. Hanala was too busy trying to clean the blood off of her Brother's face in vain. There may have been a time when they were rivals, bitter and spiteful, but that had vanished. Replacing it was sheer grief and regret for allowing the fights to overshadow the inescapable fact that they were family, of the same blood, from the same roots. That they spent so long fighting was a tragedy in itself.

Joachim narrowed his eyes at the three men; his hands raised his STG-43 at them. They stared at him for a moment before they finally backed away from Hanala, leaving Hanala to Joachim and the near tears Fuhrmann. Joachim knew that there was no love lost between them, but Heinrich knew full well what this was. To see a woman like Hanala so utterly shattered like this...

Joachim lowered the rifle and pressed his human hand onto Hanala's shoulders, she was violently shaking. Joachim searched for something, anything to comfort his Hanala with, but he just knew it would never bring any sort of relief to her. Her family had suffered two losses to day.

The sound of boots caught Joachim's attention.

Approaching them was Gerald.

Joachim looked up and found his mentor staring at him in a matter that Langer usually reserved for the men he considered inferior, or his enemy. At this moment it appeared to be both. It was the sort of look that told Joachim that behind the image of niceties was a man not afraid to make an example out of a traitor like Joachim – No matter how close they were.

Stopping in front of the crying Hanala, the confused Fuhrmann, and Joachim, filled with drowning guilt, Gerald reached into his pocket, making Joachim flinch and nearly jump. In Gerald's hand was not a pistol. It was the gold cigarette case he had traded off to Morell.

"Hoch," Langer finally spoke, his eyes never leaving Joachim's. "I think we should talk… all three of us."

 **…**

* * *

 **...**

One thing went through Joachim's mind as he listened to Gerald recant the story. How was it that despite his involvement since the first minutes of first contact, had Heinrich Fuhrmann not been informed about what was happening. Not just the basic cover story, but what was truly happening. He was a decent enough young man who seemed to hold National Socialism with little adoration.

The difference between Hoch and him were astounding during their first days of service together. This war was a calling to Joachim. A calling built up as some sort of mad genetic superiority quest instilled into him by his superiors. Of course this was no longer how he felt, abducting the Führer proved that, but still. It was not all that long ago that he supported it.

On the other hand, to Fuhrmann his soldiering was just work. At the most, it was his duty to the Fatherland, to protect it whenever the future seemed in doubt. There was such elegance in its simplicity. There were no hidden agendas, no chips on his shoulder, seemingly no need for rivalries. One gained rank through service. Not show, not through rivalries and choosing your powerful friends carefully. It was that simplicity that made Joachim jealous.

Quietly he sat there, listening as Langer spelt out what was happening right underneath poor Fuhrmann's nose. Lots of it was truth, lots of it was half-truths and flat out wrong. Joachim did not confirm or deny anything. He simply sat there besides Fuhrmann, his head down in shame.

"Early morning, Heydrich summoned me here," Langer pressed on, lacing his fingers together. "Keeping close tabs to his rival, Kaltenbrunner and cornering the doctor you sold your heirloom, he got the picture. The doctor confessed you bought drugs off him. Kaltenbrunner was grabbed on the border to Switzerland. He confirmed your involvement…"

Langer fell silent, his eyes closing for a moment. He exhaled and opened his eyes once again. He turned away from Heinrich and directed his disappointment to Joachim, who sat6 there silently. Joachim bowed his head silently. He could not stand to look Gerald in the eyes.

"Tell me it is a lie," he said softly. "Tell me Heydrich is a paranoid lunatic. Tell me that you did not do something absolutely _unspeakably treacherous._ "

Joachim did not speak; he did not deny the charge. There was really no need to at this point. Gerald knew Joachim better than anyone else in this world. Gerald stood up from his desk, as did Joachim, placing himself on the defensive. Gerald needed to understand, he just needed to get why the younger man had did it all.

Swallowing his fear, Joachim looked up and met Langer's gaze with as much bravery as he could produce.

"I did this for you, Gerald," Joachim informed his mentor, forcing the quiver in his tone to stay in a state of suppression. "I did this to protect you and the family from the inevitable! The quarians were going to crash the Party one way or another. I did this to buy a favour for your freedom! They wanted to arrest you for the Kristallnacht riots."

Gerald remained unfazed by reason.

" _Did this for me?_ _**Did I ask for your help?!"**_ the old soldier nearly screamed at his protégé.

Joachim flinched as fear of Langer overwhelmed him.

"I don't care what your excuse is," Gerald muttered. "Definitely not now, not when as we speak, an enraged Reinhard Heydrich is sitting in my home with I don't how many men. With them are Lene, Helena, Hilde, Frieda, Geli, Peter and Wilhelm…"

Gerald trailed off helplessly, leaving Heinrich and Joachim in a state of shock. Both men knowing what Heydrich could do. Joachim's guilt increased tenfold as he looked onto Gerald's expression of lost frightfulness as he seemed to think about his family.

T _his could not have been happening…_

After several long terrifying moments, Gerald looked back up to meet Joachim in the eye. He shook his head and started to aimlessly pace back and forth.

"I have been granted an ultimatum by Heydrich," Gerald pressed on, his voice small. "I deliver your body to him, my family lives. If you walk out alive…then…"

Gerald could not finish the ultimatum he was forced into. Joachim did need to hear it.

Langer rubbed his face and exhaled softly.

"That is the bargain made for them…" Gerald spoke again. It was his turn to not be able to look into his friend's eyes. "…and I intend on delivering…"

Joachim took a deep breath. The words he was hearing were not sinking in. They just hung there. He Stood up from his seat and took a step back.

"Gerald… I need you to listen to me..." Joachim spoke with as much calm as he could possess. "I know you scared… but you don't have to do this. You know me. You know what I'm capable of. You call Heydrich; you tell him I'm dead. You load me into the car and take me there. I will kill every one of those bastards who threatens them. You know I can do it. Hanala at my side, we can kill them all. They're my family… I-I can save-"

Gerald stopped pacing. He looked like a man possessed.

 **"THEY ARE NOT YOUR FAMILY, YOU BASTARD** _ **TRAITOR**_ **!"** Gerald roared out at the shocked into submission Joachim. "You cowardly _little_ _ **shit**_ _!_ I should have known better than to trust the likes of you! I should have left your ass in the gutter! No… even if you haven't sold everything I taught you out for an alien, I'm not taking that risk!"

As much as the words hurt him, it was the snapping of a pistol belt holster made Joachim step back, his spine hitting the door. It was undeniable sound of Gerald opening his holster. The oldest man of the room turned his focus to Fuhrmann.

"Heinrich," Langer said. "Come here."

Ignoring Joachim's begging eyes for Fuhrmann to remain where he was; Heinrich stood up and slowly moved around the desk to join his Father-in-Law. Gerald looked grimly to the young Fuhrmann as he wrapped his hand around the taller soldier's bicep. Joachim ignored the surging jealousy as he stepped back from the two of them.

"I told you something important after you married my daughter, do you remember Heinrich?" Gerald spoke softly, in the way a Father spoke to his son. "Family comes first. Family _always_ comes first. So I need you to help me now. Your family needs you to save them."

Fuhrmann's eyes widened as he looked from Gerald to Joachim, who now stood alone.

"I know it's hard," Langer spoke to Fuhrmann as though they were the only two in the room. "I know he is your friend. I loved him like he was my own… but we have no choice. Hoch has to die. For Helena's sake, he has to die at our hands-"

"Heinrich, _listen_ to me!" Joachim interrupted Gerald, forcing Heinrich to look back to him. "I know you can fight! Now is not the time to turn on each other! Not now. That's what they want! The four of us… we can stop this! You _know_ we can stop this."

There was a long pause before Joachim knew his answer before Fuhrman had to even speak it.

Like Gerald before him, Heinrich snapped open his pistol holster as well.

"No… no, I'm sorry Joachim…but no," was all Heinrich could say. "Gerald is right. Family comes first. You're not family."

Joachim shook his head. He turned his attention to Langer, who stood there in silence. He tried to pay no attention to Langer's failure to use his first name. He was now reduced to a formal surname.

"But… but you've been my family for the past eight years…" Joachim breathed to Gerald as he turned his widened eyes to Langer. Joachim shook his head, adding. "No… no… this isn't happening, _this isn't happening_ _ **. THIS IS NOT FUCKING HAPPENING!**_ "

Wiping the sweat and forming tears from out of his face, Joachim took one step forward.

"Listen to me, Gerald. I screwed up. I plotted against the state, but I did it... I did it to save you all," he tried once again, his voice pleading for calm as he admitted his crimes to Gerald. "You're my family Gerald, you're like a Father to me. I had to save you. I just had to. I just want to go and save Lene, I want to go save Helena, Peter, Hilde, Frieda, Geli, Wilhe-"

"You're not my son, _Hoch,"_ Gerald cut him off, his tone growing ever more desperate to Joachim's ear. "You never were. I didn't need your charity, nor your rescue. You only just made things worse by bargaining for me without my knowledge or thought about what might happen."

Langer watched as the last of Joachim colour vanish.

"I'm sorry, but it has to be this way," Langer continued, his voice hallowed. "Please don't fight this… It's time to end this. If you love them… If you love Lene and the children… you won't go for your pistol... You'll accept this fate."

 _Don't fight it…_

To say that the suggestion was tempting was an understatement. Joachim had destroyed his life in the name of doing the right thing. If there was a chance, a chance at saving the family, then why didn't he just do it already and give Langer a chance.

Perhaps he could do it himself... as a final favour to Langer…

It was in that moment of silence and the contemplation of suicide that Joachim could hear the faint muffling of crying from behind the office doors.

 _Hanala_.

Hanala was his reason for living now.

He wanted everything the future could have, but the only person that made those future dreams worth all of the loss now was Hanala. He wanted to live somewhere quiet with her, he wanted to marry her. If possible, have a family with her. All of these were only possible if Joachim could dissuade Gerald from this path.

Or… end Gerald life.

"Gerald… there was a time when if this happened, I would have gladly let you kill me," Joachim verbalized his thoughts, finally looking up to meet him in the eyes. "But I have someone now; and I love her, Gerald."

Langer did not react.

"I have a chance to build something for myself with her at my side. I have a future now, a real future. I might have died for you a year ago… but not now… not when I am so close to finally getting away from all of this..." Joachim continued, his voice weak… pathetic... as though he had reverted back into a child.

Joachim shook his head, he could not meet Gerald's eyes.

" No Gerald… I will not let you get away with this execution without a fight," he concluded. "For her… I'll kill both of you if you do not stand down this instant. I _swear_ on everything I have left that I will."

Like Gerald and Heinrich before him, Joachim unsnapped the holster of his Walther. Heinrich flinched and quickly looked to Gerald for guidance. He received none. Gerald was locked onto his target like a bird-of-prey. He knew that in that moment, Joachim was no longer his student. He was his own man, and he was now taking his stand.

"So… one more time, my friend, my mentor… my… my _Father_ ," Joachim said, daring to use the paternal term. "You know me… _father._ You _know_ I can stop this. I can fix all of this. Hanala and I can _fix_ all of this. You just have to trust me. Please, trust me this one last time and I swear I will _never_ interfere in your life ever again. I-I will take Hanala and I will… we'll disappear. You will never see us again. I just…please allow me to fix this..."

Joachim locked his mouth close. His piece had been said, all he could do now was wait for something _anything_ from Gerald. So in silence he waited for a response. He did not need words; he just needed for Gerald to change his expression, to button his holster back up, to slump into his seat. Something… _anything_ …

In their tense silence, a minute passed between the three men…

There was no change in Gerald Langer's demeanour was seen by Joachim.

They were locked into inevitable confrontation now.

Gerald was locked into the course now and he was dragging the younger men in with him. Joachim glanced to Heinrich. Like Gerald, he too stood there unimpressed with what he was hearing. He had made his mind up a long time ago now. Understandable really… Gerald's words were like gold when Joachim was his age… and he did have an obligation to the family. More than Joachim did.

Suddenly out of nowhere, the most peculiar thing erupted from Joachim's mouth.

"I… nearly had sex with Magda Goebbels, you know."

Both Gerald and Heinrich blinked nearly simultaneously as they heard Joachim's inexplicable and utterly random confession. As painful as his heart felt pounding inside of his chest, Joachim somehow found the strength to smile slightly at the sheer insanity must have sounded like.

"Yeah… she came on to me when I was up there, "Joachim continued, smiling slightly as he watched Gerald's lips twitch. "I guess her husband was lousy or something. She had more enough leeway to make me fuck her, had it not been for the Führer walking in on us… we got lectured… then she tried it again… right in his study…"

There was nothing but silence at first as Joachim went quiet, grinning to himself at the strange concept of Joachim nearly being conquered by a voracious older woman –the First Lady of the Reich herself even.

Ultimately the images probably going through Langer's head were just too much for him to handle. Out of nowhere, Gerald let loose a near maniacally charged laugh that filled the room completely. Joachim, as depressed as he was, joined him in the laughter and was quickly followed by Fuhrmann, his face breaking into a dopey grin.

The laughter lasted so long that it left Gerald gasping for air.

"Only… only you…. _Joachim_ ," Gerald managed to wheeze out, as he laughed again. "Only you could stumble into that much of a mess!"

The laughter died down between the three friends.

In a flash of a second, Gerald's pistol flew out of his holster and up at Joachim's direction, next came up Heinrich's as well.

As quick as they had moved against, as much resolve as they had, they did not have the sheer amount of pistol training Joachim possessed from years of training and application. In a flash, he raised his own Walther from his own holster and unloaded on the two of them without as much as a thought to it. He was like a machine with the weapon. He managed to fire two rounds into each of their chests.

As Gerald and Heinrich fell they still managed to fire on him, reflex he reckoned. Two rounds did not miss. One round shredded his right ear almost off his head; another round went through his shoulder. The pain shot through him and like Fuhrmann and Langer before him, he too fell.

But it was not the agonizing pain of the wounds that did it. It was the guilt that did him in. He… he had done. Within a nanosecond he had realized what he had just done. It was the unthinkable… he had… he…

 _"No, no, no, no... "_ Joachim verbalized finally; launching himself into the pooling blood that belonged to the only Father he had in his life. Exhaling unsteadily, he wrapped his arms around him.

Gerald did not speak, his eyes were opened as they looked on Hoch, but ehey did not see the massive man sobbing and bleeding on him.

Gerald Langer was gone.

 _"Gerald, I'm sorry…"_ Joachim sobbed out, rocking Gerald's warm body back and forth like a child possessed. _"Gerald…I'm sorry, I- please wake up… I'm sorry…. I didn't mean…. I didn't mean to do this…I should have let you… I should have let you…"_

He was scarcely aware of the sounds of gunfire and male death rattling screams. He paid no attention as the door flew open, as arms wrapped around him and tried to pull him away. He was babbling his anguish now. He wasn't even aware of what he was say as he wiped his eyes and buried his head into Gerald's blood soaked chest.

"Joachim... I'm so sorry…" he could hear Hanala breath into his ear. She too was a mess of tears.

Joachim did not acknowledge the quarian. HE continued to sob into Gerald's chest, and fought weakly as Hanala pulled Joachim back from the body until he was resting in her body. Like Joachim, she too was blood stained by loved ones.

 _"Joachim, w-we have to go…"_ Hanala mumbled into his neck. _"We have to go. We have to go save Lene. We can't stay here now…"_

Her words were so hollow. The two of them suffered tremendous loss today. But in the face of his loss, he knew Hanala was right. The grieving would have to come later.

They still had work to do.

Promises to honour…

Taking control over his emotions, Joachim forced himself to stand back up, staggering as he ignored the amount of blood he was losing. Looking regretfully to Heinrich, Joachim turned away from his mentor and friend, his boss and Father. Not before stumbling to Gerald's desk to scoop the cigarette case that had caused so much grief.

Turning away, he had two thoughts that he could do something about.

The first one was to save Lene and the rest of the family. He would never again have their friendship for what transpired here today. Between the betrayal and what he did to Gerald and Heinrich, he would never be forgiven for what had happened here.

That no longer mattered. All that mattered now was making sure the family lived.

The second was much simpler, much more cathartic He would go any length to put a bullet between Reinhard Heydrich's eyes. No longer did he want peace. Not now at least. It was in this moment that told Joachim that he was going to hunt every loyal National Socialist that dared to show their face in front of him ever again.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

"Are you awake?" a voice called out to him.

With a moaning groan, Flight Lieutenant Dalad'Voar vas Osalion opened his eyes as requested, lolling his head side to side as the lights above him flashed to life.

What in the Ancestors name… where was he? Why wasn't he in his suit?

Breathing heavily, the Lieutenant looked up. Standing in the door way was a human built like a krogan. Though his words were concerned, his expression was almost interrogative. For a few moments, Dalad was worried about that his was some sort of rude. Then he looked down to find that none of his limbs had been tied up. On the contrary, the only binding on his was the primitive gauze and tape that was being used to stop any bleeding he might have had.

The last thing he remembered was that he was trying to get off the ground. He managed to launch several rockets at the human vehicles, and then he was hit by some sort of anti-armour shell….

"I wouldn't stand up too fast… you were pretty banged up…" the human advised, kneeling before the quarian.

The Lieutenant watched as the man pulled off the tape to inspect the wounds. He did not say anything about the injuries. He simply nodded and re wrapped the tape on his arm. Dalad glanced at the man's uniform's collar. Jagged lightning. Yes he heard that this was a symbol of the humans they had to defeat. Why was he being treated so well by him?

Perhaps he was one of the humans that wanted to help. Like the one Admiral was a good friend with. Perhaps he saved him from the fire. The man stood up, his hand reaching into his jacket pocket. Dalad flinched until he realized what the man was holding.

It was his holos…

"I saved this from the transport before the fires got too bad," the scar faced man rumbled as he flickered the image to life, revealing his wife and son Gerda and Jal to him. With a slight smile, he added. "She's a very… pretty woman… at least I think she might be, cannot say quarian women are my thing. Are they your wife and your son?"

Dalad did not hesitate for a second to nod. The human returned the gesture as he handed Dalad his holos.

"I'm happy to know that family structure is not vastly different between us, as are the concepts of honour and duty," the German spoke up as he stepped away. "You could have left, but you stuck around and fought to save lives, even at the risk of yours. Tell me, do you like to fly?"

Rubbing his head, the lieutenant nodded for a second time.

"Me as well," the man agreed with him, pulling what appeared to be human cigarettes out. "I tried to join the Luftwaffe, but I was told I was both too tall and too old. They said I should be ground maintenance instead,

The human grinned making the long scar on his face twist terribly.

"I told them to bugger off in far less polite words," he added. " I wanted to fight, and to make a difference, if not in the air, then by land. Oh well, such is life. One can't always get what they want…"

"I… I don't mean to be rude, but who are you?" Dalad murmured, pocketed his personal effects away from the human.

The smile on the large man only widened.

"My apologies, my name is Otto Skorzeny, lieutenant, "The human known as Otto Skorzeny introduced himself to the quarian; "It's a pleasure to meet you. This may seem presumptuous, but I think you and I are going to be friends soon enough..."

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

By the time Hanala and Joachim got their stolen Hanomag out of the city centre and into the Viennese community, it was already too late.

The house that housed the Langer family was engulfed in flames that rivalled that of hellfire.

Collecting their weapons, the two of them climbed out of the vehicle and limped over to the hypnotic fire. Turning her head to look away and search for potential enemies, Hanala let out a devastated shriek.

Joachim followed her gaze.

There, swinging from the tall oak tree branches in the front yard was Lene… and Helena… and Hilde, Frieda, Geli, Peter and Wilhelm.

The whole family was a mess. Their clothing torn up, the little children's bodies were bruised and beaten to a bloodied pulp. His breathing went shallower as Joachim could see from here an… anomaly with the two eldest women, the shredded open dresses, breasts hanging loose from their blouses, the blood trickling down from their thighs to their knees…

Joachim paid no attention to Hanala as she realized what had happened to Lene and Helena, nor her falling to her knees to vomit and sob at the sight. He was… he was numb to all of this now. He could not comprehend this. All that he could do was step forward towards the heat of the flames. He reached into his belt to retrieve his SS-honour dagger. He needed to cut them down. He could not leave them swinging like this…

As he stepped forward, the sign around Lene's next became more and more legible.

 _ **ATTENTION!**_

 _ **TRAITORS AND SYMPATHIZERS BEWARE! THIS IS BUT THE FIRST TASTE OF JUSTICE!**_

 _ **HOCH, WE WILL BURN EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE YOU HAVE EVER KNOWN AND LOVED TO THE GROUND, THE BROTHERHOOD YOU HAVE BETRAYED WILL ENSURE IT!**_

Joachim cut the cord of the sign from off Lene's body. He turned back and found Hanala approaching the family in slow, baby like steps, her hands covering her mouth, her body shaking once again as she looked unflinchingly into Lene's half closed eyes. Her eyes flickered to all the children, the sight making the woman audibly sob as she turned to bury her head into Joachim's chest.

"Joachim… I… I'm-"

Turning back, he looked down to her. Quietly, Joachim shook his head, wiping the water building up in his tired eyes.

"Not right now…" he said, forcing his voice not to turn into a plea. He handed her the knife, adding. "You cut the rope... I'll hold them."

Watching Hanala take the knife, Joachim reached out and held Lene's body in his arms as Hanala went to work cutting through the rope. One by one, the Langer family was cut down, each of them lighter than the next. One by one they were laid together in the snow several metres away from where they took their last breath. How his body managed to work was beyond him. He must have been in an automated state.

When Joachim wrapped his arms around Helena, he jumped back in sudden shock. Hanala turned back to find Joachim utterly lost. Joachim shook his head, forcing his focus to come back. They went back to work; Joachim daring not to tell Hanala that he could feel the faintest hint of a pregnancy bump inside of Helena.

The grief was only further compounded.

Why couldn't he have arrived sooner…

Laying the finally last two members of the family down with the rest of the children and Lene, Joachim finally collapsed next to Lene. He carefully buttoned her shirt back up, his fingers moving away and instead touched against her face, looking for the last traces of warmth the woman he loved, absolutely loved had in her. But it was gone now, extinguished forever. Never to return, never to bring back any sense of comfort to Joachim, now no longer able to stop the flow of tears: tears of rage and sorrow alike.

Everything was gone now. Everything of his old life was gone.

The fires raged on into the murky morning.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: Clean up, minor narrative changes.**


	11. The Black Orchestra

**Chapter 11: The Black Orchestra - February 14th, 1943**

 **...**

The attack on Joachim Hoch was not the only attack on the family of the vast conspiracy that had managed to remove the Führer on the 6th of February. It was but a single clog in the vast retaliation plotted out weeks in advance by both Ernst Kaltenbrunner, who kept his profile low and by Reinhard Heydrich, who had become the face of the retaliation. After Heydrich hid his boss Heinrich Himmler from the attack, he went on the offensive in a sudden, massive strike.

Right across German occupied Europe, Generals and men suspected of sympathies to the coup had been attacked by SS hit squads. Guilt or innocence did not mean much to them. All that mattered was to strike a blow in which the Wehrmacht caved to the SS. A message that was sent to the leadership unaffected by the attacks was a clear one: Stay loyal or suffer dire consequences for working against the interest of the country.

All these reasons were lost on one man watching much of his personal life literally burn away from the revenge of the SS. Standing in front of his home, Generalfeldmarschall Erwin Rommel watched silently as the structure finally gave way and collapsed before his eyes from the fires that engulfed the grand old manor.

It kept his mind off what was happening below his line of sight. Below him, two sets of sobbing cried into the night, devastating the man privately.. One came from his son Manfred, the other from Gertrude, half-sister to Manfred.

Together they clutched onto the cold body of Manfred's mother, his beloved wife, Lucie.

She had been dead for hours. Two shots to the chest and left and simply discarded in the ditch like she was nothing more than refuse.

What kind of monsters were these men? Killing women and children to punish the guilty? Had it not been for Manfred being at his auxiliary posting in the Luftwaffe, the boy too would be lying next to his Mother in the exact same fashion as she. It had been Gertrude who was the first one on the scene. When he got the phone call from her, the quarians had gotten him to his home in a matter of minutes.

For the first time in a long time, Rommel simply did not know what to do. He could not go out and seek revenge. He was too old for a vendetta and too important to simply go out and hunt down these monsters. He had to return to the front soon. That Patton character was readying to mass an attack… He had to stay focused. He would grieve for her when he had the chance. He had no time to grieve. The war would not allow it.

The Generalfeldmarschall trailed off as he felt Gertrude's hands clutch his trousers, her face buried into his knee as she sobbed. Though not her mother, Lucie and she were almost like mother and daughter shortly after her own birth mother Walburga committed suicide in 1928. Gertrude was a result of a fling in Erwin's more rambunctious days. How poor, sweet Lucie could just… _accept_ that he had a child with another woman was a strength he wondered how anyone could possess.

It made his recent affairs with Admiral Falan that much more plagued with guilt.

Exhaling unsteadily, Rommel forced his coming counter offensive to the side as he bent over to hold his daughter in one hand, the other pressing against Manfred's back. He did not know what to say. He could rouse his army to do tremendous feats of bravery; he could inspire fear and admiration into his adversary, but for this? No words he could find; none at all. No matter how desperately he needed to say something soothing to his children.

He did not have to find a way to start the conversation. Manfred looked up, tears streaming down his eyes as he looked on his Father as though perhaps he would have all the answers.

"W-why did this happen, Father?" was all Manfred could demand of his lost in thought Father.

Letting his hand fall off his children, Rommel leaned over Lucie and rolled her off back to display the frozen, rictus scream on her face, her hands gnarled to her breast, her chest torn open by the firing squad.

"Take a good long look at your Mother, Manfred," Erwin spoke over the sobs of his son. "Look at what they did to your home. This is National Socialism. This is their behaviour at their basest of forms. I defied them, and this was their response. Death and misery is all they now stand for. We are not the only ones this has happened to and we will not be the last."

Rommel stood back up and pulled his son by the arm back to his feet.

"So, no more tears, son," he demanded of Manfred, his voice much harder than a Father should be to a devastating son. "No tears and no more weeping, we need to pick ourselves up and get back to the task at hand."

The father granted his son several more moments to finish his weeping. He kept his eyes trained on his wife, somewhere in the back of his emotional mind; he just wanted to see Lucie smile one more time. That was all he needed right now. No matter how much of an adulterous fool he was, he still needed her…

"What happens now?"

The question came from Gertrude. Erwin looked away from his wife and back to her.

"We bury her," He spoke quietly. "Then I take Manfred to the Africa front." Pausing, he added, "I would like it if you were there watching out for him. I would feel better if you were there with us."

Although Gertrude nodded in understanding, the younger, more volatile boy looked to his Father; anger replaced the tears in his eyes.

"That's all you think about, isn't Father? _The bloody war_!?" Manfred shouted at his Father with great malice, "Mother needed you at home and now she's dead! Whatever you did to betray the Führer, caused this. You killed mother!"

Before the teenager could press on his rant, Erwin backhanded his boy into stunned silence. Still the Generalfeldmarschall remained emotionless. Mostly out of fear he would step out of line and actually hurt his boy for such disobedience.

"I loved your mother," Rommel said as his hand felon to Manfred's shoulder. "Every day I have been away from her I took time out and wrote to her. You are right, son. Mother did not deserve this. They should have come after me… but it's done and now is not the time to lament over something you, nor could I change now. Gertrude and you will be joining me on the front and that is final."

Erwin fell silent as he watched Manfred was led away by his half-sister and then turned back to his wife. Giving her only moments more of his attention, he wandered down the pathway to the garden shed for a shovel and perhaps a blanket to wrap her in. It wasn't much, but he could not leave her just lying there.

He needed to speak to Hoch about this. Surely Hoch could dissuade his son from National Socialism better than he ever could. Manfred did not seem to understand yet the evil he still seemed to accept as normal.

Of course, Rommel wasn't aware of the former SS man's own troubles at the moment.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

As soon as the attacks against the plotters started, they stopped.

In a matter of hours, dozens of families had been attacked across the broad spectrum of plotters and innocent men alike. There was no rhyme or reason to any of it; it was simply a flash reaction to what had happened in Berchtesgaden two weeks ago. It was so devastating and so surgical, that most Germans had no idea it had happened.

It was hard to see the upside to this action, but there was one. Many Generals, who remained steadfast neutral had been hit by the SS. Losing family, they rallied to Von Manstein, whose family was attacked as well.

Erich von Manstein, a man walking the fine line between preparedness and paranoia, decided that the whole family had gathered at his insistence under the guise a celebration. When the SS hit squad showed up, they found themselves dead before they even hit the ground. It was an expected fate when fanatics attacked a family reunion where every male member of the family were soldiers educated by Prussian militarism since the dawn of Prussia.

Oh, the attacks would not go unpunished. It simply took longer for the Wehrmacht to mobilize. They were simply too large an apparatus for quick response to this unexpected first strike by the SS. No matter how savage the attacks had been, the Prussian class demanded calm, even as they had to hide their families from retaliation. They would not stoop to the SS's level. Not when their hands were already dirty from the Party's demands for race war in the east.

There had been a downside to the abduction of the Führer. It had been Himmler, who had escaped and gone dead silent. No one, not even the quarians could figure out what happened. The Reichsführer never stayed in one spot. The entire hypothesis the quarians came up with was that Himmler was rallying the Waffen-SS in secret meetings, most likely demanding them to prepare for some sort of counterattack against the plotters.

The problem was that the Waffen-SS swore allegiance to Hitler. Not to Himmler. Himmler might have gotten their agreement to move, but tonight the world would know that Hitler was presumed killed by Heinz Guderian's attack on his Chalet. When the whole world learned the Führer was declared dead, The Waffen-SS would have a decision to make, and it was to be made ultimately by their creator: Paul Hausser.

Paul Hausser was Prussian born, Prussian educated and an old Prussian soldier, who like many of his contemporaries was a loyal subject to the Kaiser for decades. When most men retire from the Heer, they take up menial hobbies. Not Hausser though. He saw the militarism remerging in Germany as a good thing, so he decided to go to Hitler and Himmler. After a series of successful meetings he took a large chunk of the protective service that was the SS and trained the grunt security men to become soldiers, their leader's military officers. His work created the first Waffen-SS divisions: Leibstandarte Adolf Hitler, SS-Verfügungs Division (later known as Das Reich) and Totenkopf.

Now, because he was the Father of the Waffen-SS, his word was as good as the Führer to them. With the Führer literally off the planet, a battle for Hausser's soul was being waged. On one hand it was Himmler, asking for his faith to remain in the Führer's vision. The other hand stood Von Manstein, whose common ancestor and life demanded that the two old soldiers talk about why loyalty to the National Socialist would drag all his work into even more mud then it already had by the fanatical elements dug deep in his own paramilitary organization.

Manstein, like many of his fellow Heer officers put little trust into the organization, but with the SS now nearing a million men, and the Russian front stretched thin as it was. He needed the SS to remain steadfast at the frontline and not turn around to fight what little Wehrmacht units could be mustered to fight the growing SS rage being summoned by Reinhard Heydrich.

An interesting development had occurred in recent days. Rommel, still sick with personal grief for what had happened, had caught the attention of none other than Albert Kesselring; one of the highest ranking men in the Luftwaffe and technically the man who Rommel answered to (Not that Rommel paid much attention to the command structure above him.)

Kesselring, now unshackled by Goring's exile imposed by the Führer was doing his very best to navigate the National Socialist dominated Luftwaffe, picking out good subordinates to take command of the air force and to force the organization to fall in line with the Heer. Admiral Zorah, as happy as he might have been to hear this development, did not approve of meeting Kesselring just yet. Rundstedt had painted a very bleak picture of the Luftwaffe. There would need to be much more stable anti-party elements in the Luftwaffe branch before he revealed what was happening to Kesselring. Thankfully, Kesselring lived up to the moniker _'Smiling Albert'_. He was the very testament of patience and quickly accepted to operate in the dark. Together with Adolf Galland and Erhard Milch, formed a sort of axis of their own to prepare for a takeover of Goering's position as the chief of the Luftwaffe.

Ultimately it was decided that the day of Goebbels rally, the assault on the National Socialist infrastructure would begin. There would not be eye for an eye just yet. That would have to come later – When the Party and the Allgemeine-SS were rounded up. Professionalism was the order of the day and today they would take back the country from those that allowed the nation to turn into such a soulless state.

The roaring of the crowd was drowning out Albert Speer's ability to hear and think about the next moves. It left him stunned as he stared on the hundred thousand men women and soldiers staring back at his direction. Around him the men and wives of the various officials stood to applaud the speaker of tonight: Doctor Joseph Goebbels, his hands clutching his two eldest daughters. The only daughters he had left in his possession.

Standing up to join the smattering of applauds for the Minister; Albert looked on the two children. Deep in the back of his mind he should have spilled water on them, and then offered to clean them up. With that excuse he could take them out of the city and back to his home, or call the quarians to evacuate them where the rest of the Goebbels family was. Seating his girls, Goebbels turned to Speer and clasped his hand. He leaned forward; revealing that behind his image of cool collection was a man frantic to be back in the arms of all his children. Perhaps even Magda as well.

Though, if that Hoch were to take Magda as a mistress, boy would that bring a smile to Albert's face. What a cruel twist of fate for an adulterous husband.

 _"As soon as this is over, I need you find someone connected to this conspiracy and have them give me their term for my family,"_ the Minister requested, his whisper urgently spoken to Speer, who nodded.

Goebbels turned away from Speer and hobbled on up to the podium. The roars and cheers from the crowds intensified even further. The minister remained standing there, staring on the people, basking in their wave of sheer enthusiasm _given to him by the best trained audience in Germany._

 _"Only three weeks ago I stood in this place to read the Führer's proclamation on the 10th anniversary of the seizure of power, and to speak to you and to the German people,"_ Goebbels began, his tone solemn. _"The crisis we now face on the Eastern Front was at its height. In the midst of the hard misfortunes the nation faced in the battle on the Volga, we gathered together in a mass meeting on the 30th of January to display our unity, our unanimity and our strong will to overcome the difficulties we faced in the fourth year of the war._

 _It was a moving experience for me, and probably also for all of you, to be bound by radio with the last heroic fighters in Stalingrad during our powerful meeting here in the Sport Palace. They radioed to us that they had heard the Führer's proclamation, and perhaps for the last time in their lives joined us in raising their hands to sing the national anthems. What an example German soldiers have set in this great age! And what an obligation it puts on us all, particularly the entire German homeland! Stalingrad was and is fate's great alarm call to the German nation! A nation that has the strength to survive and overcome such a disaster, even to draw from it additional strength, is unbeatable. In my speech to you and the German people, I shall remember the heroes of Stalingrad, who put me and all of us under a deep obligation._

 _I do not know how many millions of people are listening to me over the radio tonight, at home and at the front. I want to speak to all of you from the depths of my heart to the depths of yours. I believe that the entire German people have a passionate interest in what I have to say tonight. I will therefore speak with holy seriousness and openness, as the hour demands. The German people, raised, educated and disciplined by National Socialism, can bear the whole truth. It knows the gravity of the situation, and its leadership can therefore demand the necessary hard measures, yes even the hardest measures. We Germans are armed against weakness and uncertainty. The blows and misfortunes of the war only give us additional strength, firm resolve, and a spiritual and fighting will to overcome all difficulties and obstacles with revolutionary élan._

 _Now is not the time to ask how it all happened. That can wait until later, when the German people and the whole world will learn the full truth about the misfortune of the past weeks, and its deep and fateful significance. The heroic sacrifices and the heroism of our soldiers in Stalingrad have had vast historical significance for the whole Eastern Front. It was not in vain. The future will make clear why."_

Speer settled into his seat as Goebbels paused for only a moment before pressing on for the masses. This was going to be long.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _"When I jump over the past to look ahead, I do it intentionally. The time is short! There is no time for fruitless debates. We must act, immediately, thoroughly, and decisively, as has always been the National Socialist way._

 _The movement has from its beginning acted in that way to master the many crises it faced and overcame. The National Socialist state also acted decisively when faced by a threat. We are not like the ostrich that sticks its head in the sand so as not to see danger. We are brave enough to look danger in the face, to coolly and ruthlessly take its measure, and then act decisively with our heads held high. Both as a movement and as a nation, we have always been at our best when we needed fanatic, determined wills to overcome and eliminate danger, or strength of character sufficient to overcome every obstacle, or bitter determination to reach our goal, or an iron heart capable of withstanding every internal and external battle. So it will be today. My task is to give you an unvarnished picture of the situation, and to draw the hard conclusions that will guide the actions of the German government, but also of the German people._

 _We face a serious military challenge in the East. The crisis is at the moment a broad one, similar but not identical in many ways to that of the previous winter. Later we will discuss the causes. Now, we must accept things as they are and discover and apply the ways and means to turn things again in our favour. There is no point in disputing the seriousness of the situation. I do not want to give you a false impression of the situation that could lead to false conclusions, perhaps giving the German people a false sense of security that is altogether inappropriate in the present situation._

 _The storm raging against our venerable continent from the steppes this winter overshadows all previous human and historical experience. The German army and its allies are the only possible defense. In his proclamation on 30 January, the Führer asked in a grave and compelling way what would have become of Germany and Europe if, on the 30th of January 1933, a bourgeois or democratic government had taken power instead of the National Socialists! What dangers would have followed, faster than we could then have suspected, and what powers of defense would we have had to meet them?_

 _Ten years of National Socialism have been enough to make plain to the German people the seriousness of the danger posed by Bolshevism from the East. Now one can understand why we spoke so often of the fight against Bolshevism at our Nuremberg party rallies. We raised our voices in warning to our German people and the world, hoping to awaken Western humanity from the paralysis of will and spirit into which it had fallen. We tried to open their eyes to the horrible danger from Eastern Bolshevism, which had subjected a nation of nearly 200 million people to the terror of the Jews and was preparing an aggressive war against Europe._

 _When the Führer ordered the army to attack the East on the 22nd of June 1941, we all knew that this would be the decisive battle of this great struggle. We knew the dangers and difficulties. But we also knew that dangers and difficulties always grow over time, they never diminish. It was two minutes before midnight. Waiting any longer could easily have led to the destruction of the Reich and a total Bolshevization of the European continent._

 _It is understandable that, as a result of broad concealment and misleading actions by the Bolshevist government, we did not properly evaluate the Soviet Union's war potential. Only now do we see its true scale. That is why the battle our soldiers face in the East exceeds in its hardness, dangers and difficulties all human imagining. It demands our full national strength. This is a threat to the Reich and to the European continent that casts all previous dangers into the shadows. If we fail, we will have failed our historic mission. Everything we have built and done in the past pales in the face of this gigantic task that the German army directly and the German people less directly face."_

"Commandant Höss?"

Looking up from his coffee and reports, Obersturmbannführer Rudolf Höss –commandant of Auschwitz Concentration Camp looked up to find Hans Aumeier lead camp supervisor and Höss's deputy standing in his office, his hand gripping his peaked cap.

"Commandant Höss, it appears a panzer unit is training a little too close to the facility. Ten Panzers, parked out front. Just running idle…"

Höss frowned. What in the hell was he talking about?

Exhaling, the Commandant pulled himself out of his desk and followed Aumeier out of the head offices and into the cold afternoon. Together they walked, ignoring the men and the occasional inmate staring at them. Exiting the camp they walked down to the outer perimeter where a gathering of guards were standing around the watchtower that had probably been the first to have spotted the sight.

Sure enough he could see the Panzers from here. Panzer IV's by the look of it, smoke billowing from their exhaust pipes.

Höss was on the verge of demanding a transmission sent out asking why these Panzers were training so close to the camp, when the contingent of Panzers pulled back randomly, returning back into the tree line they had emerged from before the Commandant had arrived. Höss wrinkled his nose. This was odd to say the least. Usually the Wehrmacht knew better than to interfere into SS controlled regions.

From above them he heard the watchtower garrison leader say:

 _"That's right, go home, you fucking Wehrmacht grun-"_

The watchtower exploded, the entire structure blew into fire and smoke. Then another watchtower was turned into shattered wood. Höss spat out his coffee. Dropping his cup, and with the rest of his subordinates, he bolted out to the first explosion to get a good look at what had happened.

 _ **"FIND WHAT FREQUENCY THOSE IDIOTS ARE USING? THAT'S FRIENDLY FIRE!"**_ He screamed to no one in particular. One of the Sturmmann's acknowledged his orders and broke off.

As they reached the furthermost of fences to where the stray panzer round had hit, Höss finally paused to look at what was happening just across the field.

Coming from the tree line, a dozen panzers came out charging the camp; a dozen men on each of the Panzers, their weapons raised and barraged the outer perimeter with small arms fire. About halfway out, the Panzer IV's came to a halt and the men jumped off the armoured vehicles the moment they were away, the Panzers opened up another volley on the outer perimeter, forcing Höss and the rest of the stunned camp guards to duck for cover.

 _"Herr Höss, the commandant of the Panzer battalion has ordered our surrender!"_

Höss's eyes widened as he rounded back to the source of the call.

 _ **"THEY ORDERED OUR, SURRENDER?"**_ the Commandant repeated wildly. _ **"THE ASSHOLES FIRED ON US FIRST AND NOW THEY WANT OUR SURRENDER? I WANT THE ENTIRE WACHTBATALLION OUT HERE!"**_

Höss turned his focus to what was going on behind the initial attack. Even more infantry was running full charge at them following light panzers. His eyes widened. This was no dream, this was no mistake, this was actually happening! What in the hell could have made the Wehrmacht turn around and betray their countrymen like this!

The sound of whistling artillery shell flew unseen over their heads, landing and exploding deep inside the camp. They had hit the crematorium judging from where the shells landed and the plume of smoke exploding out into the sky. As sudden as the shelling started it ended, probably command decided against it.

The cracking of rifle and machine gun fire came from his men, forcing the assault infantry to hit the ground. It was enough for Höss. He lost his nerve and ran for it as the rest of his battalion came up to resist the attackers. Compared to the attackers though, they were heavily outgunned and possibly outnumbered.

It did not matter to him, however. He had a family to get out of here.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _"I speak first to the world, and proclaim three theses regarding our fight against the Bolshevist danger in the East._

 _This first thesis: Were the German army not in a position to break the danger from the East, the Reich would fall to Bolshevism, and all Europe shortly afterwards._

 _Second: The German army, the German people and their allies alone have the strength to save Europe from this threat._

 _Third: Danger faces us. We must act quickly and decisively, or it will be too late."_

 _Goebbels paused as he allowed the three theses to sink into the room before he pressed on to explain himself._

 _"I turn to the first thesis. Bolshevism has always proclaimed its goal openly: to bring revolution not only to Europe, but to the entire world, and plunge it into Bolshevist chaos. This goal has been evident from the beginning of the Bolshevist Soviet Union, and has been the ideological and practical goal of the Kremlin's policies. Clearly, the nearer Stalin and the other Soviet leaders believe they are to realizing their world-destroying objectives, the more they attempt to hide and conceal them. We cannot be fooled. We are not like those timid souls who wait like the hypnotized rabbit until the serpent devours them. We prefer to recognize the danger in good time and take effective action. We see through not only the ideology of Bolshevism, but also its practice, for we had great success with that in our domestic struggles. The Kremlin cannot deceive us. We had fourteen years of our struggle for power, and ten years thereafter, to unmask its intentions and its infamous deceptions._

 _The goal of Bolshevism is Jewish world revolution. They want to bring chaos to the Reich and Europe, using the resulting hopelessness and desperation to establish their international, Bolshevist-concealed capitalist tyranny._

 _I do not need to say what that would mean for the German people. A Bolshevization of the Reich would mean the liquidation of our entire intelligentsia and leadership, and the descent of our workers into Bolshevist-Jewish slavery. In Moscow, they find workers for forced labour battalions in the Siberian tundra, as the Führer said in his proclamation on the 30th of January. The revolt of the steppes is readying itself at the front, and the storm from the East that breaks against our lines daily in increasing strength is nothing other than a repetition of the historical devastation that has so often in the past endangered our part of the world._

 _That is a direct threat to the existence of every European power. No one should believe that Bolshevism would stop at the borders of the Reich, were it to be victorious. The goal of its aggressive policies and wars is the Bolshevization of every land and people in the world. In the face of such undeniable intentions, we are not impressed by paper declarations from the Kremlin or guarantees from London or Washington. We know that we are dealing in the East with an infernal political devilishness that does not recognize the norms governing relations between people and nations. When for example the English Lord Beaverbrook says that Europe must be given over to the Soviets or when the leading American Jewish journalist Brown cynically adds that a Bolshevization of Europe might solve all of the continent's problems, we know what they have in mind. The European powers are facing the most critical question. The West is in danger. It makes no difference whether or not their governments and intellectuals realize it or not._

 _The German people, in any event, are unwilling to bow to this danger. Behind the oncoming Soviet divisions we see the Jewish liquidation commandos, and behind them terror, the specter of mass starvation and complete anarchy. International Jewry is the devilish ferment of decomposition that finds cynical satisfaction in plunging the world into the deepest chaos and destroying ancient cultures that it played no role in building."_

Speer could not help himself, like the thousands of others he nodded.

 _"We also know our historic responsibility,"_ Goebbels went on, looking around at his audience impressively. _"Two thousand years of Western civilization are in danger. One cannot overestimate the danger. It is indicative that when one names it as it is, International Jewry throughout the world protests loudly. Things have gone so far in Europe that one cannot call a danger a danger when it is caused by the Jews._

 _That does not stop us from drawing the necessary conclusions. That is what we did in our earlier domestic battles. The democratic Jewry of the_ _ **"Berliner Tageblatt"**_ _and the_ _ **"Vossischen Zeitung"**_ _served communist Jewry by minimizing and downplaying a growing danger, and by lulling our threatened people to sleep and reducing their ability to resist. We could see, if the danger were not overcome, the specter of hunger, misery, and forced labour by millions of Germans. We could see our venerable part of the world collapse, and bury in its ruins the ancient inheritance of the West. That is the danger we face today."_

 _"My second thesis: Only the German Reich and its allies are in the position to resist this danger. The European nations, including England, believe that they are strong enough to resist effectively the Bolshevization of Europe, should it come to that. This belief is childish and not even worth refuting. If the strongest military force in the world is not able to break the threat of Bolshevism, who else could do it?"_

Albert watched as the crowd in the Sportpalast roared _"No one!"_ in return. Spurred on by the emotional response of the crowd, Goebbels continued.

 _"The neutral European nations have neither the potential nor the military means nor the spiritual strength to provide even the least resistance to Bolshevism. Bolshevism's robotic divisions would roll over them within a few days. In the capitals of the mid-sized and smaller European states, they console themselves with the idea that one must be spiritually armed against Bolshevism."_

The entire Sportpalast broke out into laughter for the sarcastic humour offered by the Minister. Speer's hard face even broke slightly to reveal a small shadow of a smile. Eventually even Goebbels broke his image long enough to acknowledge the remark with a widely amused smile given to his audience.

 _"That reminds us of the statements by bourgeois parties in 1932, who thought they could fight and win the battle against communism with spiritual weapons,"_ Goebbels mocked, his eyes rolling. " _That was too stupid even then to be worth refuting. Eastern Bolshevism is not only a doctrine of terrorism, it is also the practice of terrorism. It strives for its goals with an infernal thoroughness, using every resource at its disposal, regardless of the welfare, prosperity or peace of the peoples it ruthlessly oppresses. What would England and America do if, in the worst case, Europe fell into Bolshevism's arms? Will London perhaps persuade Bolshevism to stop at the English Channel? I have already said that Bolshevism has its foreign legions in the form of communist parties in every democratic nation. None of these states can think it is immune to domestic Bolshevism. In a recent by-election for the House of Commons, the independent, that is communist, candidate got 10,741 of the 22,371 votes cast. This was in a district that had formerly been a conservative stronghold. Within a short time, 10,000 voters, nearly half, had been lost to the communists._

 _That is proof that the Bolshevist danger exists in England too, and that it will not go away simply because it is ignored. We place no faith in any territorial promises that the Soviet Union may make. Bolshevism set ideological as well as military boundaries, which poses a danger to every nation. The world no longer has the choice between falling back into its old fragmentation or accepting a new order for Europe under Axis leadership. The only choice now is between living under Axis protection or in a Bolshevist Europe._

 _I am firmly convinced that the lamenting lords and archbishops in London have not the slightest intention of resisting the Bolshevist danger that would result were the Soviet army to enter Europe. Jewry has so deeply infected the Anglo-Saxon states both spiritually and politically that they are no longer have the ability to see the danger. It conceals itself as Bolshevism in the Soviet Union, and plutocratic-capitalism in the Anglo-Saxon states. The Jewish race is an expert at mimicry. They put their host peoples to sleep, paralyzing their defensive abilities._

Shouts came from the crowd erupted spontaneously. "We have experienced it!" they cried out in return.

After the first war, they most certainly had until the Enabling Act was finally placed into law. Goebbels nodded sympathetically to their agreement. Like a Father consoling a children.

 _"Our insight into the matter led us to the early realization that cooperation between international plutocracy and international Bolshevism was not a contradiction, but rather a sign of deep commonalities. The hand of the pseudo-civilized Jewry of Western Europe shakes the hand of the Jewry of the Eastern ghettos over Germany. Europe is in deadly danger._

 _I do not flatter myself into believing that my remarks will influence public opinion in the neutral, much less the enemy, states. That is also not my goal or intention. I know that, given our problems on the Eastern Front, the English press tomorrow will furiously attack me with the accusation that I have made the first peace feelers!"_

The entire arena exploded into laughter and cheers, louder and more voracious then before. Speer could not help himself; he clapped apprehensively to Goebbels words as a small chuckle escaped his mouth. The man was firmly in Hitler's camp still, but that did not mean he wasn't clever.

 _"That is certainly not so,"_ Goebbels pressed on, his face now grinning down on the audience, _"No one in Germany thinks any longer of a cowardly compromise. The entire people think only of a hard war. As a spokesman for the leading nation of the continent, however, I claim the right to call a danger a danger if it threatens not threatens not only our own land, but our entire continent. We National Socialists have the duty to sound the alarm against International Jewry's attempt to plunge the European continent into chaos, and to warn that Jewry has in Bolshevism a terroristic military power whose danger cannot be_ _ **overestimated**_ _!"_

Speer nodded and clapped, as too did every man behind Goebbels. The Minister paused for a moment to allow his words to sink in.

 _"My third thesis is that the danger is immediate," the Minister continued. "The paralysis of the Western European democracies before their deadliest threat is frightening. International Jewry is doing all it can to encourage such paralysis. During our struggle for power in Germany, Jewish newspapers tried to conceal the danger, until National Socialism awakened the people. It is just the same today in other nations. Jewry once again reveals itself as the incarnation of evil, as the plastic demon of decay and the bearer of an international culture-destroying chaos._

 _This explains, by the way, our consistent Jewish policies. We see Jewry as a direct threat to every nation. We do not care what other peoples do about the danger. What we do to defend ourselves is our own business, however, and we will not tolerate objections from others. Jewry is a contagious infection. Enemy nations may raise hypocritical protests against our measures against Jewry and cry crocodile tears, but that will not stop us from doing that which is necessary. Germany, in any event, has no intention of bowing before this threat, but rather intends to take the most radical measures, if necessary, in good time."_

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

" _The military challenges of the Reich in the East are at the center of everything. The war of mechanized robots against Germany and Europe has reached its high point. In resisting the grave and direct threat with its weapons, the German people and its Axis allies are fulfilling in the truest sense of the word a European mission. Our courageous and just battle against this world-wide plague will not be hindered by the worldwide outcry of International Jewry. It can and must end only with victory!_

 _The tragic battle of Stalingrad is a symbol of heroic, manly resistance to the revolt of the steppes. It has not only a military, but also an intellectual and spiritual significance for the German people. Here for the first time our eyes have been opened to the true nature of the war. We want no more false hopes and illusions. We want bravely to look the facts in the face, however hard and dreadful they may be. The history of our party and our state has proven that a danger recognized is a danger defeated. Our coming hard battles in the East will be under the sign of this heroic resistance. It will require previously undreamed of efforts by our soldiers and our weapons. A merciless war is raging in the East. The Führer was right when he said that in the end there will not be winners and losers, but the living and the dead._

 _The German nation knows that. Its healthy instincts have led it through the daily confusion of intellectual and spiritual difficulties. We know today that the Blitzkrieg in Poland and the campaign in the West have only limited significance to the battle in the East. The German nation is fighting for everything it has. We know that the German people are defending their holiest possessions: their families, women and children, the beautiful and untouched countryside, their cities and villages, their two thousand year old culture, everything indeed that makes life worth living."_

 _ **"UNHAND ME, YOU IDIOTS!"**_

Around Hauptsturmführer Amon Goeth the Wehrmacht man laughed at his struggle as they dragged the commandant of the in-construction Kraków-Płaszów concentration camp out of his home and into the yard, ignoring the screams of his family watching him being pulled away from them against his will.

There, gathered outside of the home was what remained of his administration, bloodied and battered by the Heer men holding their rifles at them. There had been no sign of a battle. The Wehrmacht just sort of overwhelmed the unprepared SS-Totenkopfverbände men assigned to overseeing the construction of the camp by Jewish labourers.

Before he could turn around to confront the Wehrmacht men to ask what in the hell was happening, a rifle stock smashed him in the back, dropping the Hauptsturmführer to the ground before his men. His groans made his family scream out in terror once again.

Coming through the crowd of captured SS men and Wehrmacht captors came the highest ranking Heer man he had seen so far. It was an Oberst. But it was not the rank that caught the Hauptsturmführer's attention. It was the long steel chain wrapped around his arm, dangling on the ground as he approached Goeth, was a long heavy hook.

The chain was used to attach heavy slabs of cattle meat.

Goeth could not help himself, he flinched as the chain was dropped before him with a clattering crash. The reaction earned a taunting laugh at the reaction from the Wehrmacht bastards. Joining the laughter, the Oberst knelt down before Goeth, his Lugar poking at the Hauptsturmführer's head. He was middle aged, clearly battle weathered, his expression was one of disgust.

"You really should have thought out your career choice better," the Oberst spoke to him. His words earning renewed laughter from his men.

"I was here to arrest you," the man pressed on as he stood back up over the bruised and bleeding SS man. "But then I made the mistake of tuning into the transmissions coming from General Weldling's attack on the Auschwitz facilities. I've decided otherwise. Get the family out of here."

Earning an affirmative from the men, the ones who had grabbed the family of Goeth, pulled them back in the direction of the home, ignoring their screams and cries. As soon as they were gone, the Oberst's hand fell onto his pistol holster.

"Herr Oberst, I'm only doing my job," Goeth begged the older Wehrmacht officer. He climbed up from the ground, but remained on his knees. There was no dignity left in this battered man, not even for the on looking captured SS men.

The nameless Oberst shrugged as he tugged out his pistol.

"Yeah, so am I."

The Oberst raised his pistol; he fired off two rounds into the Hauptsturmführer's chest and watched Goeth flop into the mud and snow. The Oberst stepped back from the dying SS commandant and looked to his men. Disgust filled his expression as he listened to the dying man sob. He gestured to the chain and hook.

"String him up like cattle."

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _"Bolshevism of course has not the slightest appreciation for our nation's treasures, and would take no heed of them whatsoever if it came to that. It did not do so even for its own people,_ " Goebbels stated to the stadium. He paused dramatically to allow his statement to simmer to a boil as the people absorbed his statement. Taking a deep breath, he continued.

 _"The Soviet Union over the last 25 years built up Bolshevism's military potential to an unimaginable degree, and one we falsely evaluated. Terrorist Jewry had 200 million people to serve it in Russia. It cynically used its methods on to create out of the stolid toughness of the Russian people a grave danger for the civilized nations of Europe. A whole nation in the East was driven to battle. Men, women, and even children are employed not only in armaments factories, but in the war itself. 200 million live under the terror of the GPU, partially captives of a devilish viewpoint, partially of absolute stupidity. The masses of tanks we have faced on the Eastern Front are the result of 25 years of social misfortune and misery of the Bolshevist people. We have to respond with similar measures if we do not want to give up the game as lost._

 _My firm conviction is that we cannot overcome the Bolshevist danger unless we use equivalent, though not identical, methods. The German people face the gravest demand of the war, namely of finding the determination to use all our resources to protect everything we have and everything we will need in the future._

 _Total war is the demand of the hour. We must put an end to the bourgeois attitude that we have also seen in this war: Wash my back, but don't get me wet!"_

 _Every sentence he spoke was met with growing applause and agreement by the men and women. The crowds started to surge like an audio wave._

 _"The danger facing us is enormous!"_ Goebbels roared down upon them wildly. _"The efforts we take to meet it must be just as enormous. The time has come to remove the kid gloves and use our fists!"_

A cry of furious agreement rose from the massive crowd. Chants from the galleries and seats testified to the full approval of the crowd. Speer remained silent. If only they knew just what was going to be expected of them. Whether by National Socialist hands, or by the military administration it would be the same. Total obedience and more and more time devoted to the war industry.

 _"We can no longer make only partial and careless use of the war potential at home and in the significant parts of Europe that we control,"_ Goebbels said, just as Speer predicted. " _We must use our full resources, as quickly and thoroughly as it is organizationally and practically possible. Unnecessary concern is wholly out of place. The future of Europe hangs on our success in the East. We are ready to defend it. The German people are shedding their most valuable national blood in this battle. The rest of Europe should at least work to support us. There are many serious voices in Europe that have already realized this. Others still resist. That cannot influence us. If danger faced them alone, we could view their reluctance as literary nonsense of no significance. But the danger faces us all, and we must all do our share. Those who today do not understand that will thank us tomorrow on bended knees that we courageously and firmly took on the task._

 _It bothers us not in the least that our enemies' abroad claim that our total war measures resemble those of Bolshevism. They claim hypocritically that that means there is no need to fight Bolshevism. The question here is not one of method, but of the goal, namely eliminating the danger."_

The Sportpalast broke down into applause for several minutes. It gave time for Goebbels to look on his fellow party officials.

 _"The question is not whether the methods are good or bad, but whether they are successful,"_ the Minister continued as the applause died down somewhat. " _The National Socialist government is ready to use every means. We do not care if anyone objects. We are not willing to weaken Germany's war potential by measures that maintain a high, almost peace-time standard of living for a certain class, thereby endangering our war effort. We are voluntarily giving up a significant part of our living standard to increase our war effort as quickly and completely as possible. This is not an end in itself, but rather a means to an end. Our social standard of living will be even higher after the war. We do not need to imitate Bolshevist methods, because we have better people and leaders, which gives us a great advantage. But things have shown that we must do much more than we have done so far to turn the war in the East decisively in our favor._

 _As countless letters from the homeland and the front have shown, by the way, the entire German people agree. Everyone knows that if we lose, all will be destroyed. The people and leadership are determined to take the most radical measures. The broad working masses of our people are not unhappy because the government is too ruthless. If anything, they are unhappy because it is too considerate. Ask anyone in Germany, and he will say: The most radical is just radical enough, and the most total is just total enough to gain victory._

 _The total war effort has become a matter of the entire German people. No one has any excuse for ignoring its demands. A storm of applause greeted my call on the 30th of January for total war. I can therefore assure you that the leadership's measures are in full agreement with the desires of the German people at home and at the front. The people are willing to bear any burden, even the heaviest, to make any sacrifice, if it leads to the great goal of victory."_

The room turned into a loud, lively applaud for him.

 _"This naturally assumes that the burdens are shared_ _ **equally**_ _!"_

The lively applause turned into a loud approval at the frank statement made by the Minister.

 _"We cannot tolerate a situation in which most people carry the burden of the war, while a small, passive portion attempts to escape its burdens and responsibilities."_ Goebbels cried. _"The measures we have taken, and the ones we will yet take, will be characterized by the spirit of National Socialist justice. We pay no heed to class or standing. Rich and poor, high and low must share the burdens equally. Everyone must do his duty in this grave hour, whether by choice or otherwise. We know this has the full support of the people. We would rather do too much rather than too little to achieve victory. No war in history has ever been lost because of too many soldiers or weapons. Many, however, have been lost because the opposite was true._

 _And so it is time to get the slackers moving!"_

The arena exploded into renewed cheers as Goebbels banged the podium hard before his people. His words called out the many men and women who were delusional enough not to believe that a war had been brewing since September 1939.

 _"They must be shaken out of their comfortable ease. We cannot wait until they come to their senses. That might be too late. The alarm must sound throughout the nation. Millions of hands must get to work throughout the country. The measures we have taken, and the ones we will now take, and which I shall discuss later in this speech, are critical for our whole public and private life. The individual may have to make great sacrifices, but they are tiny when compared to the sacrifices he would have to make if his refusal brought down on us the greatest national disaster. It is better to operate at the right time than to wait until the disease has taken root. One may not complain to the doctor or sue him for bodily injury. He cuts not to kill, but to save the patient's life._

 _Again let me say that the heavier the sacrifices the German people must make, the more urgent it is that they be fairly shared. The people want it that way. No one resists even the heaviest burdens of war. But it angers people when a few always try to escape the burdens. The National Socialist government has both the moral and political duty to oppose such attempts, if necessary with draconian penalties."_

The gathering murmured their agreement. Goebbels allowed the pause to linger as he stared down on them impressively, before continuing on. Privately, Speer wondered if Goebbels had taken acting lessons.

 _"Leniency here would be completely out of place, leading in time to a confusion in the people's emotions and attitudes that would be a grave danger to our public morale. We are therefore compelled to adopt a series of measures that are not essential for the war effort in themselves, but seem necessary to maintain moral at home and at the front. The optics of the war, that is, how things outwardly appear, is of decisive importance in this fourth year of war. In view of the superhuman sacrifices that the front makes each day, it has a basic right to expect that no one at home claims the right to ignore the war and its demands. And not only has the front demanded this, but the overwhelming part of the homeland. The industrious have a right to expect that if they work ten or twelve or fourteen hours a day, a lazy person does not stand next to them who thinks them foolish. The homeland must stay pure and intact in its entirety. Nothing may disturb the picture._

 _There are therefore a series of measures that take account of the war's optics. We have ordered, for example, the closing of bars and night clubs. I cannot imagine that people who are doing their duty for the war effort still have the energy to stay out late into the night in such places. I can only conclude that they are not taking their responsibilities seriously. We have closed these establishments because they began to offend us, and because they disturb the image of the war. We have nothing against amusements as such. After the war we will happily go by the rule_ _ **"Live and let live."**_ _But during a war, the slogan must be_ _ **"Fight and let fight!"**_

 _We have also closed luxury restaurants that demand far more resources than is reasonable. It may be that an occasional person thinks that, even during war, his stomach is the most important thing. We cannot pay him any heed. At the front everyone from the simple soldier to the Generalfeldmarschall eats from the field kitchen. I do not believe that it is asking too much to insist that we in the homeland pay heed to at least the basic laws of community thinking. We can become gourmets once again when the war is over. Right now, we have more important things to do than worry about our stomachs._

 _Countless luxury stores have also been closed. They often offended the buying public. There was generally nothing to buy, unless perhaps one paid here and there with butter or eggs instead of money. What good do shops do, that no longer have anything to sell, but only use electricity, heating, and human labour that is lacking everywhere else, particularly in the armaments industry._

 _It is no excuse to say that keeping some of these shops open gives a lovely impression to foreigners. Foreigners will be impressed only by a German victory!"_

The painful truth about the German international image brought force a stormy applause. The way that the Party had conducted themselves forced Germany into this position. If they had only convinced the world the growing Bolshevik threat better. Perhaps the war in the west would have never had to have happened.

" _Everyone will want to be our friend if we win the war. But if we lose, we will be able to count our friends on the fingers of one hand,"_ Goebbels warned his people with dramatic gusto. _"We have put an end to such illusions. We want to put these people standing in empty shops to useful work in the war economy. This process is already in motion, and will be completed by the 15th of March. It is of course a major transformation in our entire economic life. We are following a plan. We do not want to accuse anyone unjustly or open them to complaints and accusations from every side. We are only doing what is necessary. But we are doing it quickly and thoroughly._

 _We would rather wear worn clothing for a few years than have our people wear rags for a few centuries. What good are fashion salons today? They only use light, heat and workers. They will reappear when the war is over. What good are beauty shops that encourage a cult of beauty and take enormous time and energy? In peace they are wonderful, but a waste of time during war. Our women and girls will be able to greet our victorious returning soldiers without their peacetime finery."_

Applause rang out from across the hall once more. Any sacrifice to support the war effort had to be made. There could no longer be time for delusions of peace. Throughout the stadium and across the Greater German Reich, the people were now understanding of what Total War entailed.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _"Government offices will work faster and less bureaucratically. It does not leave a good impression when the office closes on the dot after eight hours. The people are not there for the offices, the offices are there for the people. One has to work until the work is done. That is a requirement of the war. If the Führer can do that, so can his paid employees. If there is not enough work to fill the extended hours, 10 or 20 or 30 percent of the workers can be transferred to war production and replace other men for service at the front. That applies to all offices in the homeland. That by itself may make the work in some offices go more quickly and easily. We must learn from the war to operate quickly, not only thoroughly. The soldier at the front does not have weeks to think things over, to pass his thoughts up the line or let them sit in dusty files. He must act immediately or lose his life. In the homeland we do not lose our lives if we work slowly, but we do endanger the life of our people._

 _Everyone must learn to pay heed to war morale, and pay attention to the just demands of working and fighting people. We are not spoilsports, but neither will we tolerate those who hinder our efforts._

 _It is, for example, intolerable that certain men and women stay for weeks in spas and trade rumors, taking places away from soldiers on leave or from workers who are entitled to a vacation after a year of hard work. That is intolerable, and we have put an end to it. The war is not a time for amusement. Until it is over, we take our deepest satisfaction in work and battle. Those who do not understand that by themselves must be taught to understand it, and forced if need be. The harshest measures may be needed._

 _It does not look good, for example, when we devote enormous propaganda to the theme: "_ _ **Wheels must roll for victory**_ _!," with the result that people avoid unnecessary travel only to see unemployed pleasure-seekers find more room for themselves in the trains. The railroad serves to transport war goods and travelers on war business. Only those who need a rest from hard work deserve a vacation. The Führer has not had a day of vacation since the war began. Since the first man of the country takes his duty so seriously and responsibly, it must be expected that every citizen will follow his example._

 _On the other hand, the government is doing all it can to give working people the relaxation they need in these trying times. Theaters, movie houses, and music halls remain in full operation. The radio is working to expand and improve its programming. We have no intention of inflicting a gray winter mood on our people. That which serves the people and keeps up its fighting and working strength is good and essential to the war effort. We want to eliminate the opposite. To balance the measures I have already discussed, I have therefore ordered that cultural and spiritual establishments that serve the people not be decreased, but increased. As long as they aid rather than harm the war effort, they must be supported by the government. That applies to sports as well. Sports are not only for particular circles today, but a matter for the entire people. Military exemptions for athletes are out of place. The purpose of sports is to steel the body, certainly with the goal of using it appropriately in time of the people's greatest need._

 _The front shares our desires. The entire German people agree passionately. It is no longer willing to put up with efforts that only waste time and resources. It will not put up with complicated questionnaires on every possible issue. It does not want to worry about a thousand minor matters that may have been important in peace, but are entirely unimportant during war. It also does not need to be constantly reminded of its duty by references to the great sacrifices of our soldiers at Stalingrad. It knows what it has to do. It wants everyone, high and low, rich and poor, to share a Spartan life style. The Führer gives us all an example, one that must be followed by everyone. He knows only work and care. We do not want to leave it all to him, but rather we want to take that part of it from him which we are able to bear."_

"Look, Herr Reichsmarschall!"

Closing the Oceanside villa's doors behind him, Reichsmarschall Hermann Goring waddled to Fredrick, his guard for his outing. The young SS man was pointing off to the ocean. There in the mist just off shore, Hermann could see what had excited the young man.

Strange… it was the none other than the _Tirpitz_ out of dry dock.

Hermann Goring smiled at the Bismarck-Class battleship mockingly. So, those idiots in the Kreigsmarine were finally finishing the _Tirpitz_ repairs after they allowed the giant vessel to be knocked out of commission. It was about time. Not that it would mean much. The Kreigsmarine was a dinosaur. To him, the only thing that made sense using was the U-Boat, and even the U-Boats were being incompetently used by those pack of idiots; such a waste of resources that should have been diverted to the Luftwaffe.

"And here I thought I was going to have a good day," said Goring as he slapped his hand on the SS boy's shoulder. "Let me tell you, as hard as they try, Doenitz and Raeder are still out of their league when I show up demanding their resources. It's like that clever little idiom? _'Taking candy from a baby'_?"

Now, if Goring taken the needle out of his arm and hadn't spent much of January in a morphine haze, he would have known that the _Tirpitz_ had completed her sea trials. As of a week ago, the Battleship was on the next phase of her rehabilitation.

 _Gunnery trials._

As Goring turned away to collect his hunting rifle, leaving his guard to laugh, he did not notice the four massive turrets armed with eight 38 centimetre guns were rotated in the direct of Goring and his Oceanside villa. He was too busy gloating about the vacation he had been granted from the war. It was probably for the best. A little relaxation couldn't hurt.

What caught his attention was the near simultaneous barrage of the guns, the whistling of the shells, and then the explosion that tore him up to shreds as Hermann Goring was literally vaporized off the face of the planet.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _"The present day has a remarkable resemblance for every genuine National Socialist to the period of struggle. We have always acted in the same way. We were with the people through thick and thin, and that is why the people followed us. We have always carried our burdens together with the people, and therefore they did not seem heavy to us, but rather light. The people want to be led. Never in history have the people failed a brave and determined leadership a critical hour._

 _Let me say a few words in this regard about practical measures in our total war effort that we have already taken._

 _The problem is freeing soldiers for the front, and freeing workers for the armaments industry. These are the primary goals, even at the cost of our standard of social life. This does not mean a permanent decline in our standard of living. It is only a means to reaching an end, that of total war._

 _As part of this campaign, hundreds of thousands of military exemptions have been cancelled. These exemptions were given because we did not have enough skilled labour to fill the positions that would have been left open by revoking them. The reason for our current measures is to mobilize the necessary workers. That is why we have appealed to men not working in the war economy, and to women who were not working at all. They will not and cannot ignore our call. The duty for women to work is broad. That does not however mean that only those included in the law have to work. Anyone is welcome. The more who join the war effort, the more soldiers we can free for the front._

 _Our enemies maintain that German women are not able to replace men in the war economy. That may be true for certain fields of heavy labour. But I am convinced that the German woman is determined to fill the spot left by the man leaving for the front, and to do so as soon as possible. We do not need to point out Bolshevism's example. For years, millions of the best German women have been working successfully in war production, and they wait impatiently to be joined and assisted by others. All those who join in the work are only giving the proper thanks to those at the front. Hundreds of thousands have already joined, and hundreds of thousands more will join. We hope soon to free up armies of workers who will in turn free up armies of fighting front soldiers._

 _I would think little of German women if I believed that they do not want to listen to my appeal. They will not seek to follow the letter of the law, or to slip through its loopholes. They few who may try will not succeed. We will not accept a doctor's excuse. Nor will we accept the alibi that one must help one's husband or relative or good friend as a way of avoiding work. We will respond appropriately. The few who may attempt it will only lose the respect of those around them. The people will despise them. No one expects a woman lacking the requisite physical strength to go to work in a panzer factory. There are however numerous jobs in war production that do not demand great physical strength, and which a woman can do even if she comes from the better circles. No one is too good to work, and we all have the choice to give up what we have, or to lose everything._

 _It is also time to ask women with household help if they really need it. One can take care of the house and children oneself, freeing the servant for other tasks, or leave the house and children in care of the servant or the NSV, and go to work oneself. Life may not be as pleasant as it is during peace. But we are not at peace, we are at war. We can be comfortable after we have won the war. Now we must sacrifice our comforts to gain victory._

 _Soldiers' wives surely understand this. They know it is their duty to their husbands to support them by doing work that is important to the war effort. That is true above all in agriculture. The wives of farmers must set a good example. Both men and women must be sure that no one does less during war than they did in peace; more work must instead be done in every area."_

It had been a blur, but all Sophie Scholl knew for certain, was that she was about to die.

Not now, not for days probably. But being dragged away from the grounds of Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich in the hands of the Gestapo, after being caught red handed distributing Anti-Nazi leaflets pretty much guaranteed her, her brother Hans and friend Chrstoph Probst were going to lose their lives at the hands of these monsters.

Funnily enough… it did not scare her.

She felt terrible that her brother and friend had been caught no doubt. But to her, she was alright with this. She would die knowing that she did all she could with the limited power she had, to resist the Nazis at any opportunity. Perhaps that was enough. If only more people could view it like that, then perhaps something could be done.

 _ **"HALT!"**_

Sophie, her brother Hans and Christoph looked up from the black cars they were being dragged to. So did the Gestapo agents. Running towards them was an odd sight. One a Heer officer, the other dressed in an Waffen-SS uniform.

Before there was any response by the secret police, the two men drew their pistols and opened fire on the men not clutching the three members of the White Rose movement. Bullets smashed out windows, slammed into the cars and tore open the men. Reloading, they raised their pistols back up to the three men holding the students hostage.

"Let them go and you live!" The grey clad SS officer roared at them, his pistol gripped tight in his hands.

As much as a deal could have been made for the White Rose members safeties, it was not to be. In a blur, Sophie watched as the Wehrmacht officer shouted out something incoherent and took a shot at Hans' captor. The next thing she knew she was covered in blood as all three men was killed by the two of them.

Sophie could not help herself; she collapsed as she looked down on her bloodstained body. It took only seconds before she found herself being dragged back up. Not by her brother, or Probst, but by the SS man, his cap knocked off his head, revealing a tussle of blonde hair.

"Dammit Rundstedt, I thought we had a deal!" he shouted out at his companion who looked like he was shaking from nerves.

"The bastard went for his pistol, Heydrich, I had to shoot!" the man known as Rundstedt shouted back at his partner, before turning to the three prisoners, adding. "You three come with us. We have somewhere to hide you!"

Sophie shared a look with Christoph and Hans. They did not need to be asked twice.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _"One may not, by the way, make the mistake of leaving everything to the government. The government can only set the broad guidelines. To give life to those guidelines is the job of working people, under the inspiring leadership of the party. Fast action is essential._

 _One must go beyond the legal requirements. "_ _ **Volunteer**_ _!" is the slogan. As Gauleiter of Berlin, I appeal here above all to my fellow Berliners. They have given enough good examples of noble behaviour and bravery during the war such that they will not fail here. Their practical behaviour and good cheer even during war have earned them a good name throughout the world. This good name must be maintained and strengthened! If I appeal to my fellow Berliners to do some important work quickly, thoroughly, and without complaint, I know they will all obey. We do not want to complain about the difficulties of the day or grump to one another. Rather we want to behave not only like Berliners, but like Germans, by getting to work, acting, seizing the initiative and doing something, not leaving it to someone else._

 _What German woman would want to ignore my appeal on behalf of those fighting at the front? Who would want to put personal comfort above national duty? Who in view of the serious threat we face would want to consider his private needs instead of the requirements of the war?_

 _I reject with contempt the enemy's claim that we are imitating Bolshevism. We do not want to imitate Bolshevism, we want to defeat it, with whatever means are necessary. The German woman will best understand what I mean, for she has long known that the war our men are fighting today above all is a war to protect her children. Her holiest possession is guarded by our people's most valuable blood. The German woman must spontaneously proclaim her solidarity with her fighting men. She had better join the ranks of millions of workers in the homeland's army, and do it tomorrow rather than the day after tomorrow. A river of readiness must flow through the German people. I expect that countless women and above all men who are not doing essential war work will report to the authorities. He who gives quickly gives twice as much._

 _Our general economy is consolidating. That particularly affects the insurance and banking systems, the tax system, newspapers and magazines that are not essential for the war effort, and nonessential party and government activities, and also requires a further simplification of our life style._

 _I know that many of our people are making great sacrifices. I understand their sacrifices, and the government is trying to keep them to the necessary minimum. But some must remain, and must be borne. When the war is over, we will build up that which we now are eliminating, more generously and more beautifully, and the state will lend its hand._

 _I energetically reject the charge that our measures will eliminate the middle class or result in a monopoly economy. The middle class will regain its economic and social position after the war. The current measures are necessary for the war effort. They aim not at a structural transformation of the economy, but merely at winning the war as quickly as possible._

 _I do not dispute the fact that these measures will cause worry in the coming weeks. They will give us breathing room. We are laying the groundwork for the coming summer, without paying heed to the threats and boasting of the enemy. I am happy to reveal this plan for victory to the German people. They not only accept these measures, they have demanded them, demanded them more strongly than ever before during the war. The people want action! It is time for it! We must use our time to prepare for coming surprises._

 _I turn now to the entire German people, and particularly to the party, as the leader of the totalization of our domestic war effort. This is not the first major task you have faced. You will bring the usual revolutionary élan to bear on it. You will deal with the laziness and indolence that may occasionally show up. The government has issued general regulations, and will issue further ones in coming weeks. The minor issues not dealt with in these regulations must be taken care of by the people, under the party's leadership. One moral law stands above everything for each of us: to do nothing that harms the war effort, and to do everything that brings victory nearer."_

It took several hours of fierce fighting before the SS-Totenkopfverbände men assigned to Auschwitz had finally surrendered to the elements of the 86. Infantry Division pulled away from refit to join in the many attacks on concentration camps across the Polish frontier.

Fear had made these under armed guards keep themselves from surrendering forthwith. From the horrors the men now had to deal with, as they inspected the prisoners, the gas chambers built and in construction they could see why. Anyone involved in these monstrosities deserved to be strung up by their entrails.

At the moment, the horrified and disgusted Generalleutnant Helmuth Weidling was watching silently as the captured Commandant of the facility, Rudolf Höss was seeing his family off for one last time. It was a luxury that he should not have allowed, but the last thing he wanted was the family to watch the firing squad shoot down their husband and father. It was more than the bastard deserved.

Wandering into the holding pens was as though he had entered his deepest darkest of nightmares in which he had not had yet. The sheer amounts of walking dead, the sick and starving children fresh off the trains they had captured, the dead loaded into carts for mass burial or cremation.

If he had only knew this was what would happen, that this seemed to be the endgame for the Party, perhaps then he would not have thought the Weimer Republic was all that bad. Perhaps he would have taken up arms against the regime sooner.

Weidling turned away and watched as the medical teams escorted easily two dozen living skeletons to the Höss manor, now converted into a medical centre for the time being. They were just two dozen out of the hundreds of thousands waiting to be exterminated. This was madness, simple madness. This was not the reason he waged the war against Europe for!

Shaking his head, he paid no attention to a young Major joining his side, a cup of coffee in his hand which was outstretched to the Generalleutnant.

"What do we do now, Herr Generalleutnant? the Major spoke up. "Do we just let them go? The Jews and all the others I mean."

Taking the cup, Helmuth Weidling's eyes hardened as he found himself forced to think about what was now in his hands. He was a military man who had just betrayed his country and leaders, no matter how while they might have been. All he wanted to do was go back to the front.

It was not out malice that he wanted nothing to do with the situation. He simply did not know what to do, not even where to start. He did what he knew best. Punish the enemy. Now things got complicated.

"No..." he finally spoke; "The prisoners will remain in the camps until further notice. We will open a supply route to each camp and spare what doctors and medicine we can to treat them. That is all we can do for now."

It seemed inadequate, but that was all anyone could do for these people for the moment. Even if the west had made it to mainland Europe and liberated these camps, they would have to do the exact same thing. Quarantine, treat, feed, rehabilitate.

"It doesn't seem right…" the Major said.

"It doesn't, but we cannot allow millions of displaced civilians with grudges to roam free across Europe," Helmuth agreed with him. "That would be insanity and cause more trouble than we can handle. This liberation has to be most under wraps and hidden until we can organize a release and be able to control the flow of information before the west can fully understand. That is all we can do for now."

The two men fell silent as they watched a six man rifle team move by them and stand before the lone Höss.

"Shouldn't we spare him?" the Major spoke, looking to the firing squad, then to Höss carefully. "He could have useful information to prosecute his higher ups. I'm not suggesting he escape punishment. Perhaps just delay it until we got more evidence out of him. We don't know how many men came and left this camp in the time he commanded it."

Weidling snorted at the suggestion.

"We have all the evidence we need in paper work," Weidling muttered as he stepped forward to where the firing squad stood.

"Do you understand the reasons you are to be executed?" he called out. looking at Höss properly.

Höss looked up to Weidling, his expression hardened as he stood upright in preparation for his own demise. His hands falling to his chest as he buttoned hi jacket back up.

"I am to be shot for doing the exact same activities that your superiors condoned since the beginning of the invasion of the Soviet Union," was Höss's answer; "The only difference is your men didn't have to ship them by train."

Ignoring the comment, Weidling nodded to the leader of the firing squad. With the wordless order, the firing squad raised their rifles and shot Höss dead, dropping him to the ground. Smoking his cigarette, Weidling turned from the dead monster and headed back to the prisoner pens. He needed to assess them before he reported to Von Manstein.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _"In past years, we have often recalled the example of Frederick the Great in newspapers and on the radio. We did not have the right to do so. For a while during the Third Silesian War, Frederick II had five million Prussians, according to Schlieffen, standing against 90 million enemies. In the second of seven hellish years he suffered a defeat that shook Prussia's foundations. He never had enough soldiers and weapons to fight without risking everything. His strategy was always one of improvisation. But his principle was to attack the enemy whenever it was possible. He suffered defeats, but that was not decisive. What was decisive is that the Great King remained unbroken, that he was unshaken by the changing fortunes of war, that his strong heart overcame every danger. At the end of seven years of war, he was 51 years old, he had no teeth, he suffered from gout, and was tortured by a thousand pains, but he stood above the devastated battlefield as the victor._

 _How does our situation compare with his?! Let us show the same will and decisiveness as he, and when the time comes do as he did, remaining unshakable through all the twists of fate, and like him win the battle even under the most unfavourable circumstances. Let us never doubt our great cause. I am firmly convinced that the German people have been deeply moved by the blow of fate at Stalingrad. It has looked into the face of hard and pitiless war. It knows now the awful truth, and is resolved to follow the Führer through thick and thin."_

The crowd rose and like the roaring ocean, together they chanted: _**"Führer commands, we follow! Heil our Führer!"**_ the collectivization of voices was so loud, that the minister of armaments was unable to continue for several minutes. Speer turned his focus to the children: Helga and Hilde, both of them looked to their Father with great pride, not aware of what he was saying, but still like the crowd captivated by his performance.

" _The English and American press in recent days has been writing at length about the attitude of the German people during this crisis. The English seem to think that they know the German people much better than we do, its own leadership,"_ Goebbels spoke mockingly the moment he allowed the words Americans and English roll off his tongue. _"They give hypocritical advice on what we should do and not do. They believe that the German people today is the same as the German people of November 1918 that fell victim to their persuasive wiles. I do not need to disprove their assertions. That will come from the fighting and working German people._

 _To make the truth plain, however, my German comrades, I want to ask you a series of questions. I want you to answer them to the best of your knowledge, according to your conscience. When my audience cheered on the 30th of January, the English press reported the next day that it was all a propaganda show that did not represent the true opinion of the German people."_

Spontaneous shouts came from the crowd "Lies!" They shouted back to their Minister _"Let them come here! They will learn differently!"_ others called. The words were filled with rage by the statements made by the enemy.

Goebbels held out his hand in a vain attempt to calm the crowd he riled up.

 _"I have invited to today's meeting a cross-section of the German people in the best sense of the word,"_ he announced.

The minister's words were accompanied by stormy applause that increased in intensity as he gestured to the representatives of the army present at the meeting.

 _"In front of me are rows of wounded German soldiers from the Eastern Front, missing legs and arms, with wounded bodies, those who have lost their sight, those who have come with nurses, men in the blush of youth who stand with crutches,"_ Goebbels pointed out the war wounded situated in the front rows of the stadium with great pride in his words. _"Among them are fifty who bear the Knight's Cross with Oak Leaves, shining examples of our fighting front. Behind them are armaments workers from Berlin panzer factories. Behind them are party officials, soldiers from the fighting army, doctors, scientists, artists, engineers and architects, teachers, officials and employees from offices, proud representatives of every area of our intellectual life that even in the midst of war produce miracles of human genius. Throughout the Sportpalast I see thousands of German women. The youth is here, as are the aged. No class, no occupation, no age remained uninvited. I can rightly say that before me is gathered a representative sample of the German population, both from the homeland and the front. Is that true? Yes or no?"_

The Sportpalast experienced something seen only rarely, even in this old locale of National Socialism events. The masses sprung to their feet. A hurricane of thousands of voices screamed out _**'YES'**_. The participants experienced a spontaneous and popular referendum and expression of will.

 _"You, my hearers, at this moment represent the whole nation,"_ the Minister informed them. "I wish to ask you ten questions that you will answer for the German people throughout the world, but especially for our enemies, who are listening to us on the radio."

Only with great difficulty could the minister be heard over the frightening display of adoration the crowd had for him.

 _"The English maintain that the German people have lost faith in victory. I ask you: Do you believe with the Führer and us in the final total victory of the German people? I ask you: Are you resolved to follow the Führer through thick and thin to victory, and are you willing to accept the heaviest personal burdens?"_

The crowd roared collectively, " _ **YES**_!"

" _Second, The English say that the German people are tired of fighting. I ask you: Are you ready to follow the Führer as the phalanx of the homeland, standing behind the fighting army and to wage war with wild determination through all the turns of fate until victory is ours?"_

The crowd roared collectively, " _ **YES**_!"

" _Third, The English maintain that the German people have no desire any longer to accept the government's growing demands for war work. I ask you: Are you and the German people willing to work, if the Führer orders, 10, 12 and if necessary 14 hours a day and to give everything for victory?"_

The crowd roared collectively, " _ **YES**_!"

" _Fourth: The English maintain that the German people is resisting the government's total war measures. It does not want total war, but capitulation!-"_

 _ **"NEVER! NEVER! NEVER!"**_ The crowd screamed to the Minister, who smiled brightly at their enthusiasm that cut the Minister's words off.

 _"I ask you: Do you want total war? If necessary, do you want a war more total and radical than anything that we can even imagine today?"_

Once more, the crowd roared collectively " _ **YES**_!"

 _"Fifth: The English maintain that the German people have lost faith in the Führer. I ask you: Is your confidence in the Führer greater, more faithful and more unshakable than ever before? Are you absolutely and completely ready to follow him wherever he goes and do all that is necessary to bring the war to a victorious end? "_

The crowd rose as one man in a display of unprecedented, sheer enthusiasm. Thousands of voices joined together in shouting: _"Führer commands, we follow! Führer commands, we follow!"_ A sudden wave of triumphant shouts of _**"HEIL, HEIL!"**_ flowed throughout the hall. As if by command, the many flags and standards are raised as the highest expression of the sacred moment in which the crowd honoured the absent Führer.

 _"Sixth, I ask you: Are you ready from now on to give your full strength to provide the Eastern Front with the men and munitions it needs to give Bolshevism the death blow?"_

As if touched by God, the crowd grew even more frantic in their approval of Goebbels words. Women wept in between their frenzied screams of " _ **YES**_!"

 _"Seventh, I ask you: Do you take a holy oath to the front that the homeland stands firm behind them, and that you will give them everything they need to win the victory?"_

" _ **WE SWEAR**_!" the crowd of screamed at a fevers pitch.

 _"Eighth, I ask you: Do you, especially you women, want the government to do all it can to encourage German women to put their full strength at work to support the war effort, and to release men for the front whenever possible, thereby helping the men at the front?"_

Once again the woman cried out, _**"TO WORK, THE FUHRER COMMANDS THIS!"**_

 _"Ninth, I ask you: Do you approve, if necessary, the most radical measures against a small group of shirkers and black marketers who pretend there is peace in the middle of war and use the need of the nation for their own selfish purposes? Do you agree that those who harm the war effort should lose their heads?"_

The crowd roared collectively, " _ **YES**_!"

 _"Tenth and lastly, I ask you: Do you agree that above all in war, according to the National Socialist Party platform, the same rights and duties should apply to all, that the homeland should bear the heavy burdens of the war together, and that the burdens should be shared equally between high and low and rich and poor?"_

 _ **"WE AGREE!"**_ the collective voice shouted in return.

 _"I have asked; you have given me your answers,"_ Goebbels replied. _"You are part of the people, and your answers are those of the German people. You have told our enemies what they needed to hear so that they will have no illusions or false ideas._

 _Now, just as in the first hours of our rule and through the ten years that followed, we are bound firmly in brotherhood with the German people. The most powerful ally on earth, the people itself, stands behind us and is determined to follow the Führer, come what may. They will accept the heaviest burdens to gain victory. What power on earth can hinder us from reaching our goal. Now we must and will succeed!_

 _I stand before you not only as the spokesman of the government, but as the spokesman of the people. My old party friends are here around me, clothed with the high offices of the people and the government. Party comrade Speer sits next to me. The Führer has given him the great task of mobilizing the German armaments industry and supplying the front with all the weapons it needs. Party comrade Dr. Ley sits next to me. The Führer has charged him with the leadership of the German work force, with schooling and training them in untiring work for the war effort. All the leaders of the party, the army, and government join with us as well._

 _We are all children of our people, forged together by this most critical hour of our national history. We promise you, we promise the front, we promise the Führer, which we will mould together the homeland into a force on which the Führer and his fighting soldiers can rely on absolutely and blindly. We pledge to do all in our life and work that is necessary for victory. We will fill our hearts with the political passion, with the ever-burning fire that blazed during the great struggles of the party and the state. Never during this war will we fall prey to the false and hypocritical objectivism that has brought the German nation so much misfortune over its history._

 _When the war began, we turned our eyes to the nation alone. That which serves its struggle for life is good and must be encouraged. What harms its struggle for life is bad and must be eliminated and cut out. With burning hearts and cool heads we will overcome the major problems of this phase of the war. We are on the way to final victory. That victory rests on our faith in the Führer._

 _This evening I once again remind the whole nation of its duty. The Führer expects us to do that which will throw all we have done in the past into the shadows. We do not want to fail him. As we are proud of him, he should be proud of us._

 _The great crises and upsets of national life show who the true men and women are. We have no right any longer to speak of the weaker sex, for both sexes are displaying the same determination and spiritual strength. The nation is ready for anything. The Führer has commanded, and we will follow him. In this hour of national reflection and contemplation, we believe firmly and unshakably in victory. We see it before us; we need only reach for it. We must resolve to subordinate everything to it."_

Goebbels raised his hands high over his head; his movement emitted a roar of approval.

 **"** _ **That is the duty of the hour!"**_ He screamed to his people, _**"Let the slogan be: 'Now, people rise up and let the storm break loose!'"**_

The Sportpalast exploded into applauds and cries of approval.

The crowd rose to their feet in jubilation. Almost all of them spontaneously broke out into singing an emotional rendition of the Horst Wessel lied.

Goebbels turned around to the Party officials on the stage with them; they had risen and were clapping for their Party comrades' impassioned speech. Goebbels leaned down and lifted Hilde right off the ground to hold her close; Helga wrapped her arms around her Father's waist.

They did not see the doors open.

They did not pay attention to Oberst Claus von Stauffenberg marching ten thousand men in perfect rank and file into the stadium.

When they did, the crowd greeted the armed arrivals jubilantly; the Party Officials looked to each other in confusion. The Heer men, healthy and determined looking pressed through the crowd, ignoring the cheering and the pats on the backs. They pushed forward through the people until they reached the stage.

Speer looked over the Oberst. He was different. He had two arms now, Gone were the nubs where his amputated fingers once were, were real seemingly working fingers. With an exception to his eye, he was whole again. Oberst waved to the crowd before turning back to close the gap between him and the Minister of Public Enlightenment.

"Minister Joseph Goebbels, Minister Albert Speer, Minister Robert Ley," The Wehrmacht man spoke to the three most prominent Party members, "Under order of the Oberkommando der Wehrmacht, you are all to be placed under arrest along with the rest of the party officials in this hall."

Speer nodded, knowing full well that the arrest was just a formality to keep a façade to protect him from their suspicion. The others… they did not take it too well. Goebbels eyes narrowed dangerously at the soldier who dared to say what he said.

"Herr Minister, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way," Von Stauffenberg warned the Minister "I have made assurances that the children will not come to any harm. Put them down, wave to the crowd and come with m-"

Stauffenberg did not even have the chance to finish his request. Before anyone could stop him, Robert Ley had pulled his pistol from his holster and fired blindly at Stauffenberg. The round missed and went through Goebbels back, dropping Goebbels to his knees.

In an instant the entire Sportpalast arena exploded into screams and panic. The armed Wehrmacht men raised their weapons and fired on the party officials, killing Ley and dozens others of Men and women alike. Stauffenberg pried Hilde from Goebbels failing hands; Albert took a hold of Helga. Together the two men collapsed with the children buried in their arms as ten thousand Wehrmacht men shot down every SS man and civilian that dared to raise a fist at them.

The children screamed as they watched Joseph bleed out, his hand reaching for his girls. Still above them the soldiers did battle with the Sportpalast security and fanatically driven civilians. Stauffenberg pushed Hilde to Speer and stood up, planting himself in front of the many microphones.

 **"CEASE FIRE!"** he shouted to his men.

After several more seconds of withering fire, they complied. The guns fell silent, replacing them was the weeping and moaning in agony of those wounded in the pitched firefight. Speer stood up slowly and looked on all the dead National Socialists and their wives in the stadium box. This was unbelievable… He had known all these people in one way or another. They weren't bad people. Misguided, but certainly didn't need to be torn to shreds like this.

Boots stamping up the stairs to the podium caught the Minister's attention. Standing there was none other than Gerd von Rundstedt, stern-faced as he looked on the carnage then to Von Stauffenberg, who looked dead surprised at what had happened.

Sighing, Generalfeldmarschall Von Rundstedt pushed the younger Oberst out of the way and stood before the microphones.

 _"I am not as skilled an orator as Goebbels was, so I will just say this: Adolf Hitler was killed in a patriotic uprising instigated by the survivors of the Sixth Army twelve days ago."_

The words left the entire stadium dead silent.

 _"It has been determined by the Wehrmacht that the military will assume control of the Nation until a suitable civilian government will be chosen,"_ Von Rundstedt pressed on. _"Make no mistake; there will not be peace with this action undertaken by the Wehrmacht. The war will continue and Goebbels speech is now law; the last order, in fact, to be demanded by the deceased Führer."_

Rundstedt ignored the open sobbing of the news that the Führer had lost his life. Whether it was because he knew that Hitler was being held by the quarians or because he genuinely could not care less about Hitler, Speer could not tell.

 _"To those listening across Germany, indeed the world, I am Generalfeldmarschall Gerd von Rundstedt,"_ The Generalfeldmarschall introduced himself. _"I am not a man who advocates uprisings in the middle of war, but there are mitigating circumstance, which I as a man sworn to defend Germany can no longer overlook. This is the feeling with many of my contemporaries. As such we stand here ready to lead our people through troubling times ahead._

 _As of this evening the National Socialist Party is now officially disbarred from office and politics in general, two out of three arms of the SS are now considered illegal organizations. I implore members of the Allgemeine-SS and the SS-Totenkopfverbände to relinquish your arms for the sake of the country. There is no need for more bloodshed here tonight, nor across the country."_

He paused for a moment.

 _"Everyone go home, keep your radio on for further updates,"_ Von Rundstedt spoke to the country spoke and to the crowd, _"Tonight you live in a very different Germany."_

With that said, Von Rundstedt turned and stepped off the podium, leaving Speer and Stauffenberg to listening to the cries of the people by themselves. Speer pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. His eyes locked on the corpse of Joseph Goebbels.

Yes… tonight it as a very different Germany. It would not be long now before it was a very different world.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: Clean up**

 **Story is done. On to the next part!**


End file.
